


The Reflecting Pool

by platinumtongue



Category: Mo Dao Zu Shi, grand master of demonic cultivation - Fandom, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Action/Adventure, BL, Drama, Dry Humping, Fantasy, Gay, Gay Seme, Gay/Straight, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Love Triangles, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pansexual Character, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Requited Unrequited Love, Straight Uke, Threesome - M/M/M, Unrequited Love, Yaoi, homophobic uke, uke jiang cheng, uke lan xichen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumtongue/pseuds/platinumtongue
Summary: Fang Zejun, an orphan raised by the Jiang Clan, is Jiang Cheng's trusted subordinate. He is loyal to a fault, yet has long been cherishing unspoken feelings. Since he knows Jiang Cheng so well, he knows exactly what would happen if he ever revealed himself. After an incident causes Jiang Cheng to send him away, he is comforted by Zewu Jun, which in turn causes jealousy in the clan leader. Jealousy not entirely unfounded. (saucy bits from Ch 4, threesome in Ch 13 + 14 ;P)
Relationships: Jiang Cheng/Lan XiChen, Jiang Cheng/OC, Jiang Cheng/OC/Lan Xichen, Lan Xichen/Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen/OC, OC/Jiang Cheng, Zewu Jun/Jiang Cheng, Zewu Jun/OC
Comments: 27
Kudos: 136





	1. Snake Bite

Fang Lin, who had been given the courtesy name Zejun by his adopted household, had never known much comfort or security in life before being taken in by the Yunmeng Jiang clan. Once he did, though, he found something he had needed even more: faith in something. Or in this case, someone.

Zejun knelt before Clan Leader Jiang to give his report. “Clan Leader. Young Master Jin has been spotted joining a night hunt. Shall we pursue?”

Jiang Wanyin scowled deeply. “The usual rabble he tags along with?”

“Yes.”

“And the corpse?”

When he used this epithet, it almost always referred to the Ghost General, Wen Qionglin. Zejun tried to keep a smile from tugging at his mouth, although he had his own opinions about how Clan Leader Jiang really felt about Wen Ning these days. 

He nodded. “He is also with them.”

Jiang Cheng swept to his feet, cursing. “Get a move on, then!”

“Yes, Clan Leader,” Zejun answered without a thought. After all, nothing about this interchange had been unexpected. 

Even if, deep down, part of him had forgiven Wen Ning after the way he had protected many of the people he loved during the conflict with Jin Guangyao, Jiang Cheng was nothing if not determined. And once he determined to hate someone, he was unlikely to change his mind. Even if his heart changed of its own accord.

Zejun assembled those under his direct command – recently he had at last been promoted to the highest ranking myrmidon in the Jiang clan – and prepared to follow Jiang Cheng out into the night. Most likely to do nothing more than scold some teenagers. But it was a comfortable and peaceful pattern by now, and none of his subordinates really hated Jiang Cheng’s over-protecting of Jin Ling either.

When they reached the wild and mountainous area just outside Gusu where the group had last been spotted, the night was deep and thick, and a few rain drops were beginning to fall. Zejun began to wonder if the children hadn’t found somewhere to shelter, and if so, how they would ever find them. Suddenly, Jiang Cheng stopped and hissed with pain.

“Clan Leader!” cried Zejun and several others behind him.

Jiang Cheng was looking down at his leg, where something long and wriggling was clearly biting his ankle and roiling in the dirt. He calmly wrote a simple spell in the air and sent it down to the snake-like creature attached to his leg. With a snap of electricity, it let go and flopped down seemingly dead.

“Clan Leader! Are you all right? Was it poisonous?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Just then, with a bark, Fairy arrived before them, barreling straight through bushes with a toothy grin of recognition. He wagged his tail before Jiang Cheng, awaiting a command or greeting.

“Fairy. Show us,” Jiang Cheng barked, far more imposingly than the actual dog before him.

Fairy turned straight around the way he had come, and hopped off into the darkness. Jiang Cheng ran after, and Zejun and the other myrmidons struggled to keep up. It was a rather frightening run through the dark and the rain, getting slapped and snagged by leaves and brambles along the way. But after a few minutes of this, they came upon a cave where a small fire was just burning down to its embers. All around it, sleeping noisily and half collapsed upon each other, were the “usual rabble” of teenagers and one undead general.

Jiang Cheng breathed heavily, both from running and from being at the limit of his anger. He clenched his jaw as the inevitable shout built up inside him. 

“Fools!” he roared, echoing through the cave.

“Mwah…?!” 

“…’s happening…?” mumbled various voices.

Among them, Jin Ling sat bold upright. “Uncle…” he murmured, swallowing in fear.

One after another, the teenagers struggled awake and immediately reached a reasonable level of panic when they recognized Jiang Cheng. Wen Ning, who had not been sleeping anyway, shot to his feet. 

“Jiang-xiong…” he murmured meekly, fumbling with a stick he seemed to have been using to poke at the fire.

Jiang Cheng pointedly ignored him, lest his anger rise any further. “All of you. On your feet! We’re leaving this mountain before one of you gets yourselves eaten. Move!”

The enraged Jiang clan leader’s words were more than enough to rouse the sleeping bunch, including a terrified Jin Ling. But kind Sizhui caught Wen Ning’s sleeve before they went.

“Uncle…I’m sorry, I don’t think Clan Leader Jiang will let you come,” Sizhui said softly. “But I’ll see you again in Gusu tomorrow.”

Wen Ning smiled innocently and shook his head. “I’m glad you can stay someplace warm tonight. Did you have fun?”

Sizhui grinned and nodded. “Of course.”

Wen Ning disappeared into the night, and Jiang Cheng successfully herded the teenagers to the nearest inn and practically shoved them all inside. By the time all this was done, he had the characteristic furrow between his brows that told Zejun he was about to get a headache, or already had.

“We’ll stay here for the night,” he grumbled.

Zejun nodded. “And your leg? It still seems fine?”

Jiang Cheng made a disgusted face. “Who would make such a fuss over a garter snake bite? Even if it were poisonous, my golden core would expel it. Just go to bed.”

As Jiang Cheng was turning away, he stopped him, “Ah, Clan Leader.” Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow wondering what other business there might be, but Zejun just smiled. He raised a finger to his mouth, holding an imaginary cup and tipping it playfully toward himself. “It’s been a while. How about it?”

Jiang Cheng seemed to think about this seriously for a moment. He glanced at his other attendants waiting for orders, then at the teenagers all beginning to find their rooms, and sighed a little. “We can’t exactly make a big racket after I just finished lecturing the trouble makers,” he said reluctantly. Zejun was about to accept this when he shifted his jaw in thought and grumbled, “Come to my room then. Quietly. Bring the wine.”

Zejun chuckled, but nodded. Fang Zejun was well aware that no other clan leaders were as lenient or friendly with their subordinates, and that he got away with a lot. In truth, he had been pushing boundaries with Clan Leader Jiang since he was a teenager. And since coming of age, he had had more or less success trying to make him into a regular drinking partner. It seemed Jiang Cheng really wasn’t used to having friends, and when he was in the mood, he seemed to welcome the attention.

After procuring the wine and cups from the inn keeper, he went up to Clan Leader Jiang’s room and rapped lightly with his knuckle. 

“Come in.”

Zejun slid the door open with his toe and came in, pushing it closed with his pinky while holding the wine jug. He offered his clan leader a warm smile before sitting beside him at the low table and pouring each of them a cup. 

He knew better than to start the conversation before Jiang Cheng was ready. Instead, he drank silently with him until whatever was bothering him came out of its own accord.

“Ngh,” Jiang Cheng made a noise of irritation, about two drinks in. “That boy…I swear he’s more like Wei Wuxian than he is either of his parents. How did that happen?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Zejun murmured dubiously. “If anyone, isn’t he more like you?”

“Me?” Jiang Cheng coughed up an incredulous laugh. “What part? I was never that reckless or disobedient.”

Zejun politely held back from saying Jiang Cheng was both of those things when it suited him. “Not that,” he assured him. He took his time thinking of all the things he liked about Jiang Cheng, and the same ones he saw in Jin Ling. “You’re both extremely forthcoming and passionate. Honest. Determined. You’d both enter danger without a thought to protect those in need, even if you dislike them. You make it very easy for someone to become entirely devoted to you.”

Jiang Cheng lapsed into staring at his half-empty cup with gathering melancholy. “I don’t know what you expect to get with such shameless flattery.”

Zejun laughed. “I’m glad you take it as flattery. You don’t see those things in him?”

“Mm? Mm,” Jiang Cheng reluctantly agreed, but stopped short of agreeing that he shared them. Zejun had noticed this before, but he really seemed uncomfortable with praise. Of course that only made him want to do it more.

After they had again fallen into silence for some time, Jiang Cheng turned a suspicious glance toward his drinking partner. “Fang Zejun. How do you always have time to drink with me?”

Zejun blinked innocently. “Are you worried I’m neglecting my duties?”

Jiang Cheng seemed almost offended, since such a criticism also reflected badly on him as a clan leader. “Are you?” he pressed.

“Only a little,” Zejun confessed with a chuckle. Jiang Cheng glared at him disapprovingly before Zejun called his bluff, “Would you rather I left?”

Jiang Cheng took a breath as if to deny it immediately, but thought better of himself and turned away to mutter under his breath, “Do what you like. Don’t come crying to me if your subordinates get uppity.”

Zejun shook his head. “They’re too devoted to you to cause trouble. As am I.”

“Shameless,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, but he took another drink and seemed content to let Zejun pour himself another as well. “You know, Zejun, you should be careful. I could swear sometimes I get a sense of cut-sleeve from you…I’m wrong though aren’t I?”

Zejun chuckled, but he refrained from answering right away, intentionally causing Jiang Cheng to look up at him nervously. Zejun just smiled calmly back at him, enjoying the deep sensation of warmth from the alcohol, amplifying the feelings he already had for his clan leader. 

“It really depends on the person,” Zejun said flirtatiously.

Jiang Cheng coughed and had to set down his cup. “What?!”

Zejun feigned surprise at this reaction. “Isn’t that normal? If we’re talking about love, I think it’s a lot more complicated than whether you prefer flowers or swords. People are unique. Personally, I wouldn’t discount half the population because of one small thing about them.”

Jiang Cheng stared in wonder at this confession for a moment before gathering himself and staring instead at the floor, coveting his drink again. 

“I knew it…you are shameless…” he mumbled, bringing his cup to his mouth but not yet drinking from it. “Normally people don’t have a range as wide as that.”

Zejun nodded sagely. “I’ve heard from Master Wei. Your qualifications are very specific aren’t they? Actually…have you ever met anyone who fulfills them?”

Jiang Cheng’s face gradually became suffused in red. “Shut up!” he said, childishly slapping Zejun on the shin quite hard. Zejun laughed but also rubbed it in pain. “She’s out there. And if she isn’t, then fine. I don’t need anyone.”

But this turn in the conversation actually made Zejun feel quite sad. Ever since getting to know Clan Leader Jiang, he had started to fear that he would end his days angry and alone. Albeit that was where he seemed to be most comfortable, it was unbearable to think of so fine a man being so alone.

“I hope you find her soon,” Zejun murmured without thinking. 

Jiang Cheng’s face briefly looked tortured. They sat in silence together for a while before Cheng took a drink. “You’re in no position to lecture me,” he grumbled.

Zejun sighed and nodded, about to bow and apologize for speaking out of turn.

“Even if you are willing to jump anyone with a pulse, you’re alone too, aren’t you?”

That remark bit sharply into the feelings Zejun had been trying to suppress for some time. He knew very well the way he felt about Clan Leader Jiang. That if it were possible, he would be overjoyed to give him whatever comfort or companionship he required. But even if he didn’t know how violently Jiang Cheng detested any hint of cut-sleeve business (as a direct result of his odd mix of hatred and admiration toward Wei Wuxian), he knew that someone so honorable would never engage in anything that could be called immoral. Whether that meant intimacy before marriage, or with someone of the same sex, it didn’t matter. And that meant that until his feelings changed, Zejun, too, would likely be alone for a long time.

He humbly nodded in acceptance. “You’re right, Clan Leader. I’m in no position to lecture.”

“So…out with it then. Why are you alone, if you take on all comers like that?” Jiang Cheng asked, surprising him. 

Zejun was at a loss for how to answer. He was still stinging from the earlier remark and had never considered that straight-laced and insensitive Jiang Cheng might ask him something that. He searched his mind for an acceptable reason that would not be outright lying.

“I tend to idolize people who would never look at me twice,” he said honestly. “On the other hand, if anyone falls in love with me first, I feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” Jiang Cheng spat back as if offended. “Someone is kind enough to care about you, and you have the nerve to say you’re uncomfortable?” Zejun presumed that Jiang Cheng had wanted to be loved like that for such a long time, he couldn’t imagine rejecting someone who did.

Zejun was shamed into silence for a moment, already not too thrilled about discussing his own personal failings with someone he admired. “You’re right,” he answered vaguely.

“I’d never be so self-centered,” Jiang Cheng went on, apparently worked up into the angry, lecturing phase of drinking. “If someone said they loved me, I’d give them every consideration. Only if I thought we were fundamentally incompatible would I say no.”

Zejun sighed with a smile. “Surely you only mean someone who already fits your criteria.’’

“No, I don’t,” Jiang Cheng insisted. “It doesn’t matter who it is, I would consider it.”

“Careful, Clan Leader. What if I said it?”

Jiang Cheng of course stopped at this, looking pale in spite of being visibly drunk. He looked up nervously, but by now Zejun wasn’t looking at him anymore. He had lowered his gaze to the table he was leaning on and the half empty cup in his hand. He slowly rolled the cup on its rim in a small circle over the table, watching the wine swish inside it. He wondered how mortified he would feel when he remembered this conversation tomorrow.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he said, trying hard to keep his tone neutral. “Just making a point. Besides which, I don’t think you have to worry.” He yawned in an obvious way to indicate that he was sleepy and ready to end the conversation. “No one’s ever confessed to you, have they?”

“You-!” Jiang Cheng stammered, clearly enraged. He tossed his head in the opposite direction in a huff. “If they did I wouldn’t tell you.”

Zejun chuckled. Though he had only been feigning sleep moments before, he realized he was actually very tired. He let the weight of his upper body rest against the table and eventually set is head down on his arms. He had a vague memory of having some other minor interchange with his clan leader, but then he drifted off into sleep. 

When he woke, it was to unnatural rustling and breathing sounds coming from his clan leader on the other side of the room. He rose sleepily, still feeling somewhat drunk and unsure of his surroundings. 

“Mnh…Clan Leader?” he mumbled.

“Don’t…don’t come near…” Jiang Cheng whispered, his voice shaking.

Zejun’s eyes shot open at the unusual sound in his voice. It wasn’t pain. He sounded afraid. But what could be so terrible that it could make Clan Leader Jiang afraid? Zejun ignored his warning and hurried over to him.

Jiang Cheng was curled up on the floor, shaking and sweating. He halfheartedly pushed Zejun away when he came near, but there was no strength in his arm. “You…disobedient…” Jiang Cheng complained, seeming on the verge of tears with frustration. “Go away!”

“Clan Leader…I knew it…the snake was poisonous, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I don’t need your help! Leave me be!” 

Zejun cursed under his breath at the obstinance that he usually admired. He ignored his orders and roughly grabbed Jiang Cheng’s leg at just above the ankle. Jiang Cheng struggled a little but really seemed to be lacking in strength, so Zejun was able to hold him still with little force. 

He threw off Jiang Cheng’s boot and sock, pushing up his chang to reveal the two slightly red and swollen marks, though he was relieved to see no curse emanating from them. Zejun’s cultivation didn’t compare to Jiang Cheng’s normally so he wasn’t sure he could help, but nonetheless he tapped his pressure points to access his own spiritual energy and send it into the wound. 

“Ngh…” Jiang Cheng moaned pitifully, curling in on himself again. 

Zejun closed his eyes, struggling to concentrate, but he couldn’t ignore such a helpless sound. “Clan Leader…is it that painful?”

“Shut up…” Jiang Cheng whimpered, but there was even more pain in his voice this time.

“Hang on. I’m trying to dull the pain. Be still.”

“No…you’re making it worse…”

Worse? Zejun opened his eyes to try to think about how that could be true. Jiang Cheng wasn’t curling in on himself, but his panting was indeed growing worse. He grabbed at the clothes over his chest, arching his back as if feeling too warm. He half-heartedly pulled at the floor, trying to get away, but didn’t have the strength to drag himself. 

It was then that Zejun spotted what he had been trying to hide by twisting in on himself, away from Zejun. While the rest of his body was seemingly sapped of strength, a certain body part in the center of Jiang Cheng’s body was inexplicably full of vigor.

Zejun blushed. His heart pounded in his ears, and for a few moments he almost forgot what he was doing. Once or twice, late at night or in a dream, he had thought about what it would be like to feel Jiang Cheng hold him or kiss him. Even though he was no virgin, somehow his lurid thoughts about his clan leader always stopped at little more than that. Perhaps it was the way he admired his purity that blocked out more lascivious notions. 

But seeing Jiang Cheng suffering like this, meekly whimpering not in pain, he realized, but frustration at inability to reach a release, brought a flood of erotic desires and fantasies into his brain. He swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on sending healing energy into his body, until he remembered Jiang Cheng’s complaint about making it worse. Of course, he thought. He was only removing the painful effects of the poison, while leaving the desire behind. 

He stopped channeling spiritual energy into him. Instead he gently set Jiang Cheng’s leg back down. He took off his other boot and sock, and without a word, gathered his clan leader into his arms. 

“Wh-…stop! What are you doing?!” Jiang Cheng protested.

Zejun ignored him and carried him over to the bed. Jiang Cheng’s fingers, as they gripped Zejun’s clothes in anger, began to tremble as he feared what Zejun would do to him. But after setting him down, Zejun moved the pillow to the middle of the bed. He turned Jiang Cheng over onto his belly with the pillow cradling his most sensitive area. 

“Angh!” Jiang Cheng cried, a pitiful but utterly adorable sound. “Zejun…you…”

“Don’t worry,” Zejun told him, touching his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s all right. You just need to get some relief, so you can sleep and restore your energy. In the state you’re in now, I’m sure just moving your hips a little will be enough.”

“No…don’t want to…” Jiang Cheng protested, turning away, yet this only further tightening his hold over Zejun’s heart with his obstinate innocence.

“All right. Then I’ll stay by your side until you feel better.”

Jiang Cheng made another noise of frustration and buried his face in the mattress. Despite his words, his hips shifted impatiently against the pillow. “What kind of snake…why is this happening…?”

Zejun thought about it. “It must have been a demon. Something very weak that wouldn’t be any threat except on a dark night with such low visibility. If a snake died during a dispute during mating season…it’s possible the vengeful energy would be enough to give it powers like this. Although I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Don’t…just…explain it so calmly…!” Jiang Cheng said bitterly, though again Zejun could tell his hips were moving slightly. It must have been a very powerful curse indeed. 

Zejun nodded. “Would you like me distract you?”

“…no…”

“…hold you?”

A longer pause this time, and a slight noise of anger. “…no,” he said, firmly.

“Leave?”

Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth and made another soft, pathetic noise, shifting his hips with more urgency now. “No,” he said reluctantly. “Don’t go.”

Zejun nodded. “I’m not watching you,” he said, indeed facing the opposite direction as he leaned his back against the bed protectively. “And I’m still a little drunk so I’ll probably think this was all a dream in the morning. Pretend I’m not here.”

He folded his arms in front of him, both to express that he didn’t mean any harm and also, hopefully, to hide the monster raging in his chang at the noises Jiang Cheng was making. 

After a few moment of seemingly tormenting himself, considering the alternatives, Jiang Cheng gradually grew a little quieter, as the noises of rustling clothes and shifting sheets grew louder. Zejun closed his eyes, trying to calm his heart, but couldn’t block out the increasing pleasure in the panting right behind his head. 

The thrusts of Jiang Cheng’s hips against the pillow became more rhythmic, and with each one Zejun felt himself growing so hard it was painful. He didn’t dare stretch down his hand to touch himself lest Jiang Cheng see him, but he was so excited he could swear he could feel what Jiang Cheng was feeling. Finally, he heard Jiang Cheng’s fist knot itself into the sheets behind his head as his masculine voice rang out with a cry of pleasure so loud it was almost a shout. 

Zejun desperately tried to control his breathing. His whole body felt on fire. In fact, the moment Jiang Cheng’s voice rang in his ears, the heat that had been building inside him had let go like an explosion of pleasure through his body. And in place of that pleasure, guilt gradually sank into him as the warm wet spot inside his chang grew cold and uncomfortable.

In the end, it was a long night for both of them. He didn’t hear Jiang Cheng’s breathing slow to a sleeping one for as long as he was awake, and that was well into the small hours of the morning. He imagined that the shame that had been brought to Jiang Cheng along with the release of tension in his body must have been tremendous. Zejun himself couldn’t calm down even after letting go, finding that not only was he more in love with his clan leader than ever before, but more certain than ever that he had no chance.

He woke late the next morning, realizing he had slipped down to his side some time during the night. He could hardly believe it, but Jiang Cheng was dressed and ready when he was just blearily opening his eyes. 

Jiang Cheng looked down at him mercilessly, although no differently than his usual morning face. “What are you dilly-dallying for? Back to Yunmeng. Get the children up.”

“Ah…yes,” he bumbled, forcing himself awake and going out the door before his clan leader. 

He started wondering if it really had been just his fantasies running wild last night, especially considering the encounter had been bookended by his falling asleep. But in his guilt over even having such thoughts, he was oblivious to the flush on Jiang Cheng’s cheeks the moment he made eye contact. Or the nervous hand that clutched at his chest, just as it had done the previous night.


	2. Forbidden Maple Leaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even without knowing Fang Zejun's feelings, Jiang Cheng's reaction to any hint of lascivious intentions is already much worse than he feared. He sends him to Gusu for indoctrination to avoid the subject all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The poem mentioned is Xie Lingyun’s “Rhapsody on Dwelling in the Mountains” from roughly 422 CE, translation by Wendy Swartz.

In his service, Jiang Cheng had a skilled subordinate by the name of Fang Zejun. Though at first quite timid, awkward and easily distracted, as he grew older, alongside a fierce loyalty to Jiang Cheng had grown a softness and dignity that the Jiang clan leader had rarely seen in one so young. Even though he stood a little shorter than Jiang Cheng himself, he had a depth to his eyes that almost reminded him of his father, Jiang Fangmian, and a presence as soothing as Jiang Yanli’s had been. Jiang Cheng relied on him even more than he realized.

But even though he had the occasional lapse in protocol, Jiang Cheng never expected his disobedience would reach the level it did that night. The two moments that stuck out in his memory were the sadness in his profile as he swished his wine cup and deflected from talk of love, and his tightly closed eyes as he respectfully turned away from Jiang Cheng’s shameful moment. 

Fang Zejun was dear to Jiang Cheng, not just because he had practically raised him, but as a loyal servant and steady companion. And now Jiang Cheng felt as if a beloved dog had turned and bit him. 

For nearly a month following the incident, Jiang Cheng avoided every possible opportunity to spend time alone with him. Then one morning, just Zejun was preparing his own subordinates for morning practice, Jiang Cheng walked just into their line of sight and shouted across the courtyard. 

“Fang Zejun!”

Almost every myrmidon in the courtyard jumped. Zejun’s normally quite stoic face was in a state of nearly comic surprise. 

“Y-…yes?” he managed.

Jiang Cheng walked up to him to glare straight down at him until he could see the very reasonable fear reaching his eyes. “How old are you?” he demanded abruptly.

“…?” Zejun’s facial expression formed the question his sense of duty prevented him from asking. Eventually he supplied, “…eighteen.”

“Not too old then.” He raised a finger and pointed it straight out the main gate. “Go to Gusu.”

From fear, the expression on Zejun’s face gradually changed to one of incredulity. “…eh…?” he murmured, trying to smile and treat this all as a joke but not quite managing it.

“Do I need to speak louder? Or do you have wax in your ears?” Jiang Cheng barked. “Take all the myrmidons you think capable between sixteen and eighteen, and go receive indoctrination with the Gusu Lan sect. I’ve made the arrangements with Zewu Jun.”

Though he expected a strong argument to follow, Zejun seemed to slowly deflate, his head lowering to hide his face. Jiang Cheng felt satisfied with this reaction. Before he turned to go, Jiang Cheng saw the young man shift his jaw and bite his lip in a familiar way that he had associated with deep thought and worry. He felt sorry for him, but there was no better way to fix his immoral proclivities than some time in the Cloud Recesses.

Jiang Cheng gave the group a perfunctory send off later that same day, hardly exchanging two words with Fang Zejun. With this, Jiang Cheng felt he had a handle on the situation and peace was once again restored to Lotus Pier. If but for one small thing.

Jiang Cheng was finding it harder and harder to sleep each night. The reason was quite simple: he had been having the same dream over and over. Though there were minor differences, whatever internal struggle was causing itself to manifest in his subconscious did not seem to be getting solved in these dreams. On the contrary it seemed to be escalating.

A warm hand on his cheek. A smile clearly visible even within deep and inscrutable eyes. Warmth and comfort of a slightly smaller body curled up against his own. And then the truly unforgivable part: his own hands reaching up to grasp his own loyal myrmidon’s face to gaze at it in admiration, and then pull him in for a kiss. 

It would be bad enough if the dream ended there, but it never did. At first, it was Fang Zejun’s hands exploring his body and evoking shameless reactions from him. But as the dreams progressed, they became more elaborate. And these days, it was nearly always Jiang Cheng in the dream taking the initiative, forcefully undressing the younger man and having his way with his body in every position Jiang Cheng could think of. And some invented newly in these dreams. Jiang Cheng felt no shame or compunction in the course of the dreams, indeed it all seemed quite natural.

Each morning, he would wake to find that once again he would have to hand-wash his undergarment, for fear of the dreadful shame he would feel if his servants started talking about his night emissions. He was a grown man! Not even teenagers were so frustrated as to have this much of a problem, he thought. The issue continued to eat at him, his shame and self-disgust growing each time he failed to think of a solution, or even a cause. 

Meanwhile, he had his duties as a clan leader to see to, among which were incidents that had been piling up relating to what the common people had been referring to as a ghost. The stories differed in major aspects, which lead Jiang Cheng to suspect that the only common thread among them was just rumor, but one thing was the same, and that was the physical description of the “ghost.”

White hair, waist-length and unbound. White clothes, which gave the impression of age, but a surprisingly young and handsome face. All reports also mentioned the victims being entranced by the ghost’s beauty despite their fear. They differed as to the apparent gender of the ghost, some saying a handsome and slender young man, some saying a tall and noble young woman. What raised Jiang Cheng’s suspicions further was the other detail all the stories shared: whatever it was, it carried a spiritual weapon. A long and white-sheathed sword.

Ghosts were incapable of using spiritual weapons, so at any rate if this creature were real at all it was no ghost. It had nonetheless reportedly killed at least two young and promising cultivators, and was terrifying the local people. With Zejun gone, Jiang Cheng set about investigating the issue himself.

Doing so led him near Gusu, so he decided – for no other reason – to pay Lan Xichen a visit and check on the progress of his clan members in their indoctrination. Zewu Jun might well have some theories about the ghost as well. It seemed only natural that he should go. He definitely did not just want to see Fang Zejun’s trouble-making face, and he put the thought right out of his mind.

He patiently waited for the changing of the guard at the entrance to the Cloud Recesses so that someone could tell Zewu Jun that he was here, and after a short wait he was allowed in. He was led toward Zewu Jun’s study to wait for him, but on the way he was suddenly halted by a slight figure fully crashing into him from behind.

“Ha ha sorry, sorry, oh…Jiang Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng glared down at the owner of the familiar voice as he scrambled back to a more reasonable distance (and out of direct range of Jiang Cheng’s fists). Unsurprisingly, it was Wei Wuxian. The trouble-maker in chief looked away and scratched his arm awkwardly. He still hadn’t gotten over his guilt over his role in the loss of Jiang Cheng’s entire family, or figured out a way to clear the air with him. For his own part, Jiang Cheng was perfectly happy to see him suffer over it forever.

“Wei Wuxian!” came an angered voice. He rarely heard the speaker raise his voice at all, so at first he didn’t recognize it. “Where are you?! You take back your words, or I’ll shove them right-…“

As he turned a corner in the middle of his tirade, Fang Zejun – dressed all in white with the Jiang crest adorning his shoulders – spotted Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng and nearly swallowed his tongue with shock. For a moment, he made a face like a child caught having dropped a glass. 

“C-…Clan Leader…?” Zejun struggled. 

Jiang Cheng looked between one of these two cut-sleeve malcontents and the other. “Hmph,” he pronounced. “Can’t even make friends among your own kind, huh?” he snapped at Wei Wuxian.

“My kind?” Wei Ying repeated, frowning curiously. He likewise looked between Jiang Cheng and Fang Zejun. Suddenly he gasped loudly. He clapped a hand over his mouth in shock, although he was clearly grinning with delight, and pointed rudely at Jiang Cheng, then back at Fang Zejun. “Ohhhh!” he teased, already starting to run away again. 

“You say one word Wei Wuxian and I’ll make you eat it,” Fang Zejun hissed at him, once again showing a face Jiang Cheng had never seen. 

“Oh no!” cried Wei Ying in falsetto, and with that he swept off somewhere, no doubt in search of Lan Wangji. 

Jiang Cheng sighed and shook his head ruefully. “So…Clan Leader, what exactly…?” Zejun asked, attempting to be polite but still seeming rather shocked.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” Jiang Cheng said, a little too firmly.

Zejun’s eyes lowered. “I'm sorry…I didn’t mean…” he muttered, but seemed to lose the will to continue. He shook himself a little. “But…is anything wrong at Lotus Pier? Surely whatever business you have here, you could have sent me a message to do it for you.”

“I can’t come to the Cloud Recesses without your permission now?” Jiang Cheng replied cruelly. He knew he had his mother’s temper, and often hated himself for it. But he also didn’t know how to change it. He even continued, though he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, “I suppose it wouldn’t occur to you that there are things I can’t rely on a mere myrmidon to do.”

Zejun’s lips parted. He looked as if he’d been slapped. He seemed to retreat physically, and kept his eyes cast near Jiang Cheng’s feet. “No…of course y-“ he began softly.

“Then next time, wait until I call for you before assuming your business is the same as mine,” Jiang Cheng said, unable to break free from the current of cruelty. Before he say could anything else heartless, he quickly turned and left toward Zewu Jun’s study.

His cheeks were flushed, he could feel it. He hadn’t felt this ashamed since he was a teenager. Seeing Fang Zejun’s face, especially after running into Wei Wuxian, filled him with irrational guilt. He hadn’t actually done anything to Zejun, but in his mind he felt he had sullied him. He also still felt betrayed by him for the incident that night. And as it always did, his guilt manifested itself as lashing out at the source of it. 

He wasn’t sure if he managed to avoid Lan Xichen’s suspicion of why he had actually come here, but nevertheless he did take the opportunity to ask about the ghost when he subsequently arrived. 

“A sword? How strange,” Zewu Jun said thoughtfully.

“I know, meaning it isn’t a ghost,” Jiang Cheng said.

Zewu Jun tilted his head slightly. “Or it isn’t using the sword to kill. If a cultivator died with their sword in hand, and the two were closely bonded, it is possible it would manifest as part of their appearance, although it would have no more substance than the ghost themselves. But as you say, a human person is more likely.”

“So…do you know of any cultivators that match this description?”

Lan Xichen took his time considering the question. But eventually he shook his head with a sad smile. “There are many cultivators of whom little is widely known, Baoshan Sanren and her sect, for example. The only known members are those who have already left and, sadly, perished. Other than that, little more than rumor.”

“And rumors?”

Lan Xichen let out a soft sigh. “Nothing like what you describe. Here and there similar stories have reached me, but I’m afraid until now I dismissed them as superstition. I will certainly treat them with more care next time.”

Jiang Cheng nodded with a small sigh of disappointment, but he hadn’t really expected a firm answer. 

“Is there no other reason you came?” Zewu Jun asked abruptly, causing Jiang Cheng’s heart to practically leap out of his chest.

“No other reason,” he snapped, only realizing belatedly how rude he was being. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Zewu Jun. I should be going.”

“If you are in a hurry I won’t detain you,” Zewu Jun said with a gentle smile. “But as you are already here, won’t you take a look at your clan members’ progress before you go? Your Fang Zejun has quite a rare talent, I’m not sure you are aware-“

“He’s not MY Zejun!”

At the look of mild surprise on Zewu Jun’s face, Jiang Cheng felt dreadful embarrassment fill him up from the bottom of his feet and settle into his stomach making him feel almost physically ill. He covered his eyes with his hand for a moment and nodded. 

“Whatever you say. Please forgive my outburst.”

“…you’re not sick or-“

“No. It’s nothing. I’ll watch.”

He seemed dubious, but Xichen nodded, stood and gestured for Jiang Cheng to leave ahead of him. They walked together to a pavilion, where some students were preparing for a music lesson. Jiang Cheng was mildly surprised that this, rather than the sparring rooms, was what Lan Xichen wanted to show him, but he obediently took a seat to the side to avoid interrupting. Fang Zejun, sitting among the other students, seemed to be bothered by his presence, but he didn’t look directly at him. Jiang Cheng also wondered why he did not seem to have an instrument.

Lan Qiren arrived moments later and took his seat at the head of the room. “The Reflecting Pool,” he said simply.

Most of the students picked up their instruments and began to play. It was an old melody Jiang Cheng knew and vaguely pictured a poem attached to it, but he couldn’t remember. He was enjoying the gentle and ancient-sounding melody, until he realized Zejun was sitting motionless. He seemed somewhat at a loss and looked up to Lan Qiren with uncertainty. Qiren raised an eyebrow at him as if this behavior was unusual. He nodded significantly.

Zejun lowered his gaze reluctantly. He closed his eyes. Took a breath in, straightened his back. Then opened his mouth.

“…combed by winds and bathed by rain,  
I intruded upon the dews and was guided by stars  
I examined my shallow ideas,  
And scrutinized my imperfect visions…”

Jiang Cheng’s lips slowly parted with shock. As soon as Zejun’s voice rang out, he remembered the poem. But every word rang through his whole body as if he had known the song but not how it was meant to sound before now. He felt stirred to the core of his being, so much so it was actually uncomfortable and he wanted it to stop, but he couldn’t bear to interrupt the beautiful sound.

By the time it ended, Jiang Cheng’s eyes were straining to see past tears and Fang Zejun had covered his face with his sleeve. Jiang Cheng felt he had intruded on something he wasn’t meant to, and got to his feet. He bowed toward Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen, turned and left without saying a word. 

As he was still struggling to manage his emotions, he walked aimlessly through the various courtyards until he spotted two familiar figures in the distance. 

Lan Wangji was towering over Wei Wuxian and they seemed to be talking. Or rather, Wei Wuxian talking animatedly about something and Lan Wangji listening patiently. But in the middle of whatever his joyful expounding was, Hanguang Jun’s gaze flicked up to Wei Wuxian’s ponytail, on top of which a maple leaf was resting almost as if placed there purposefully. But he seemed to have realized it was from running too enthusiastically through the grounds, and lifted a hand without a word to remove it.

Jiang Cheng knew it wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t really spy on people, but something about this interchange transfixed him and he stared in wonder. 

Lan Wangji, the strictest and least personable human being in Jiang Cheng’s acquaintance, expressed not the slightest discomfort at grooming Wei Wuxian, even in broad daylight. Not only that, after removing the leaf, he showed it to Wei Ying with just the barest hint of a smile gracing his noble countenance. Wei Wuxian appreciatively took it and twirled it around in his fingers as he spoke, lifting it up and placing it over Lan Wangji’s nose playfully.

Jiang Cheng’s mouth fell open, mortified to be even distantly related to such a shameless scoundrel as Wei Wuxian. Nor could he fully believe Lan Wangji’s total lack of reaction to this humiliation. On the contrary, after letting Wei Wuxian laugh at him for some time, he gently took the leaf back and raised it back toward Wei Wuxian’s hair. Saying nothing but still appearing to be smiling slightly, he fixed it like a diadem into his hair, and before he was done, swept a lock of unruly hair back behind Wei Ying’s ear.

Wei Wuxian grinned at him, finally silenced. But then he suddenly got down on hands and knees and returned with a yellow leaf to match his red one. He stood on his toes and – with the help of Lan Wangji obediently bowing his head – gave him a matching leaf diadem too. 

At that point Wei Wuxian dissolved into helpless laughter and the two of them went off together somewhere, but Jiang Cheng’s heart was pounding long after they left. He didn’t understand it. Nothing they had done had been particularly romantic, if anything they were more like children with each other. And yet each moment of that interaction had been so tender, Jiang Cheng felt he had just crossed yet another barrier into a forbidden world. He went back to Yunmeng without one more word spoken to anyone, only fearing his dreams would now be much worse.  



	3. The Sound of the Xiao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Fang Zejun grieves at being separated from Jiang Cheng and Yunmeng, unexpectedly the Lan Clan Leader is a great source of comfort. Zejun worries if he misinterprets Zewu Jun's kindness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: For anyone who’s curious, Fang Zejun’s given name is Fang Lin 方霖, his courtesy name is 方泽俊. :)

Fang Zejun never learned what Clan Leader Jiang had been doing in the Cloud Recesses that day. It frankly faded from his mind with the “mere myrmidon” comment. It wasn’t that Zejun didn’t know his place. Far from it, it was Jiang Cheng’s misreading his concern for meddling that really hurt. Jiang Cheng seemed to have no idea how much Zejun really cared about him.

That, and the knowledge that despite his lenience, in the end Jiang Cheng was just like all the other clan leaders: valuing birth above all things. Which meant he didn’t really see people like Zejun as properly human. No wonder he was doing everything he could to get away.

During the rest of his indoctrination, Zejun missed Jiang Cheng and Yunmeng terribly, but he focused his mind on cultivation to distract himself and as a result made rapid progress. He was particularly grateful for the presence of Lan Xichen, who seemed to have taken him under his wing somewhat. Or maybe he really was just as perfect as he seemed, and was kind to everyone. 

One afternoon, Zejun had felt drained after a discussion class on songs of clarity and tranquility, and was sitting in a patch of sunlight in an empty courtyard. Lan Qiren assured him that musical cultivation was his strongest suit, even though he had never learned any instruments and could only use his voice, so he strove to cultivate that power especially while he was here. But on this day he had repeatedly been mistaken about several important distinctions, and felt weighed down by how much education he was lacking in comparison to even other myrmidons. Of course, when feeling inadequate, he couldn’t help being dragged into despair over Jiang Cheng’s opinion of him.

It was at this moment that Zewu Jun found him. The elder Lan brother watched Zejun for some time in the late afternoon light and gathering autumn cold before Zejun noticed him. When he did, he immediately got to his feet and bowed.

Zewu Jun shook his head with a smile. “You’ve seen me five times a day for three months now. I think it’s all right to relax a little,” he said, coming to stand beside him.

Zejun wasn’t able to answer. He didn’t feel he had the right to contradict a great cultivator and model human being like Zewu Jun, but also felt strongly that – on the contrary – what he most needed to learn to get by from now on was how to maintain a firm line between himself and his superiors.

Lan Xichen seemed to observe this passing over his face, and made no comment either. Instead, he observed the patch of sun glinting through the trees, by which Zejun had been warming himself. The elegant gentleman took a step forward to feel the warmth as well, and Zejun once again appreciated the peace of mind that this man’s presence brought to any place he was.

“Clan Leader Jiang is very lucky,” Lan Xichen said after some time. “Most students in our sect are skilled with the guqin, some the sheng and a few the pipa. But singers are rare, perhaps because the clan values refraining from speech. Moreover, your voice has a quality that cannot be taught. I envy it.”

Zejun felt himself flush with shame. He was sure this was exaggeration as he couldn’t imagine having anything such a great man would envy. “No one with your skill at the guqin should have anything to envy,” he muttered. 

The elegant man smiled, but without much warmth as it usually had. He shook his head slowly. “A great guqin master can evoke almost any emotion with their music. But however beautiful, it is always a step removed from the self. A voice is something we are born with, a direct portal between our souls and others. With so little room to hide, only a truly pure soul can move another with voice alone.”

Fang Zejun tried to listen politely, but at the end of this he felt like crying. It stung him to be appreciated by so great a man as this, while the one he wanted barely recognized him as human. 

“Zewu Jun. If not for Clan Leader Jiang’s insistence, I would never have come here. I don’t belong. I…have never even held a guqin before,” Zejun murmured, feeling his own frustration rising in his voice but being unable to stop it. But Zewu Jun only listened patiently. “When I first arrived in Yunmeng, I didn’t even know how to bathe properly. And I didn’t learn to read until I was fourteen. I still can’t make sense of half the things the master assigns to us…” 

Zejun took a shaking breath in, not sure why he was able to say to Zewu Jun the things he was most ashamed of, and normally put forth quite an effort to hide. It was true that he was reaching his limit of frustration and felt he might explode soon. But surely there was someone less perfect he could have told this to, and expected more sympathy. Zewu Jun would only look down on him even further.

He wiped his face of the tears that had started flowing against his will. “…I don’t know who would be envious of me. And even fewer people…who’d want me around them. I’ve never felt like such a burden in all my life.”

He could tell Zewu Jun was watching him, but he was too ashamed to look at him and couldn’t judge his reaction. When finally the silence had gone on too long and he grew nervous that he had offended the Lan clan leader, he glanced up. To his shock, Zewu Jun’s face was twisted with pity. He almost looked as if he were the one hurt. Despite his intense loyalty toward Jiang Cheng, Zejun’s heart squeezed in his chest to think of the depth of compassion in this person.

“How preposterous,” Zewu Jun said softly. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded like criticism. Yet his soft baritone carried only empathy. 

But Zejun was shocked moments later to find a large and gentle hand clasp his cheek, and another rest comfortingly on his shoulder. Holding him like this, Zewu Jun watched him as if looking for an answer he did not have, and in the end didn’t seem to find the right words for whatever he wanted to say.

“Fang Zejun. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said eventually, in a soft voice that made Zejun’s heart beat faster.

Zejun closed his eyes as one hot tear after another streamed down his cheeks. He didn’t even know how to thank Lan Xichen for this overwhelming kindness. This person truly seemed not fully of this world. Helplessly he allowed Zewu Jun’s soft grasp on him to continue, but fought the feeling all the while that he should run away. It went on long enough that he even had time to feel distantly guilty about this kind of intimacy possibly being unfaithful to Jiang Cheng, as well as time to remind himself that Jiang Cheng would if anything be grateful to have his attention diverted elsewhere.

“…forgive me,” Lan Xichen said falteringly, as if he only just realized the impropriety of his actions. He lowered his hands. After another odd moment of silence between them, he said, “Fang Zejun, do not hesitate to tell me of your troubles again. It is no imposition for me at all…which, if I say it, you won’t believe me will you?” he added with a small self-deprecating laugh.

Zejun still wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened, but certainly he would never believe he had the right to bend the ear of one of the greatest cultivators alive, simply to talk about his troubles. But he didn’t want to seem rude either, so he refrained from answering.

Zewu Jun watched him for a time before letting out a soft sigh. He cast his gaze to the ground as he considered. “Well then…if I find you here some evenings, may I walk with you a little? I would be perfectly contented with no conversation if you cannot bring yourself to impose after all.”

Despite his guilt at taking any of Zewu Jun’s time, he realized that proposal was very hard to refuse. After all, he need only not come here if he really wished to refrain from bothering Lan Xichen. And it was Xichen’s choice if he wanted to come here some evenings, so…

He was able to manage a slight nod. If Jiang Cheng had seen any of this take place, he would no doubt have been shocked, not only at Zewu Jun’s kindness, but at Fang Zejun’s utter incapability of engaging in casual banter as was his wont. He pictured Jiang Cheng teasing him for that, which only made him miss his clan leader even more.

He again felt a reassuring hand clasp his shoulder, which despite the grace of the action and the genuine comfort he felt from it, felt like a disastrous breach of protocol. But Zewu Jun did not press him any further, and presently swept off about his own business, leaving Zejun alone in the little patch of evening sun. 

Zejun pressed a hand to his chest to calm down. What was wrong with him? The way his heart was pounding now, it had only ever done for Jiang Cheng. How could he be feeling this way, even if it were only a momentary sensation, toward anyone but him? He pushed these thoughts away because he couldn’t bear to think any worse thoughts about himself.

The weeks and months continued to pass peacefully in Gusu. Whenever he felt at his limit of loneliness and self-hatred, Zejun took up Zewu Jun’s kind offer and walked with him a little in the evenings. If they talked at all it was only on abstract topics, music and cultivation mostly. Sometimes Lan Xichen shared stories of his childhood, which Zejun was very pleased to hear. It helped him feel better to realize that even people like the great Zewu Jun had once too been small and a little bit stupid.

One evening, as they were about to part, Zewu Jun asked him abruptly, “Fang Zejun…you have a given name, do you not?”

“I do. But please don’t trouble yourself to learn it. No one I know uses my given name.”

Zewu Jun let out the slightest of chuckles, his eyes nearly closing in a warm smile. “May I ask what it is anyway?”

Zejun looked away and hoped he wasn’t noticeably blushing with embarrassment. In truth he much preferred his courtesy name, as he thought his given name was a little too literary for someone as unpolished as him. 

“Lin,” he murmured reluctantly.

“I see. As in ‘forest’?”

Zejun shook his head with a sigh, wondering if he should just lie and say it was. “ ‘Long rain.’”

Zewu Jun smiled warmly, wearing the express of one who has found an unexpected treasure. “Fang Lin,” he repeated to softly himself. “And, could I call you A-Lin?”

This time Zejun’s blush was for a completely different reason. “Lin” was a name he kept secreted away, one that he had not heard since he was very young indeed, in fact he couldn’t remember when someone had last used it. It felt like being hugged suddenly, and at first he didn’t like it at all. He couldn’t answer.

Unfortunately, the kind and sensitive Zewu Jun misinterpreted the reason for his hesitation. His gaze slowly lowered and he seemed to grow distant. “I’m sorry…that would be going a little too far, wouldn’t it?” He bowed his head slightly and turned to leave. “Well then…good night.”

This too, unfortunately, Zejun misinterpreted as well. He watched Zewu Jun’s gracefully retreating figure and assumed that he had finally come to his senses about how his friendship with a mere myrmidon might be perceived. So much the better, Zejun thought. Though with a good deal more loneliness than he expected.

At last, Zejun and the other Yunmeng Jiang Sect members completed their indoctrination. Zejun had not seen Jiang Cheng’s face in months. He thought he would be desperate to get home, but leaving felt far more painful than he expected. He tried once or twice to meet Zewu Jun’s gaze that final day in the Cloud Recesses, at least to express his gratitude and bid him goodbye, but the timing never seemed right. 

He was about to gather the clan members together to leave when he had an attack of conscience. He decided it really wasn’t right to leave without thanking Lan Xichen for helping him through this hard time. He inquired with some Lan clan members about Zewu Jun’s location and discovered he was in the music hall.

Before he even arrived, his footsteps faltered as he caught the sound of Liebing wafting toward him. He didn’t recognize the melody. He listened at a distance for some time, eventually realizing that Zewu Jun was composing contemporaneously, another of his many talents. The sound was so delicate and touching that he fully forgot why he was there. He sat down on the walkway outside the music hall to listen.

More than just beautiful, this melody evoked a myriad of feelings in Zejun. His mind wandered here and there as the pleasant sensation echoed through his body. He became so wrapped up enjoying the way it provoked his imagination that he didn’t even notice when it stopped.

He looked up to see Lan Xichen looking down at him in surprise. “Ah…” his mouth fell open as he realized how rude he was being. He quickly stood and bowed. “Zewu Jun…I didn’t mean to overhear. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

Zewu Jun shook his head with a reassuring smile, but it faded quickly. Zewu Jun didn’t speak at first, his eyes downcast. “Did you need me for something?” he asked at length. 

“Ah…no. Only…I wanted to…” Zejun faltered as he lost confidence that he had any right to presume Lan Xichen had showed him any unusual kindness. Nonetheless, Jiang Cheng had always said to remember the things people did for you, and make sure they knew it. He clasped his hands before him and bowed deeply. “Many thanks for your guidance, Zewu Jun. I, Fang Lin, will not forget your kindness.”

When he snuck a glance up at Zewu Jun, his noble face had a gentle but barely visible smile. Zewu Jun gracefully dipped his head forward in recognition.

“Will you go back to Yunmeng?”

Zejun straightened. “Yes.”

“Hm,” Zewu Jun murmured thoughtfully, seeming already miles away. “I do not doubt that these halls will miss your voice.”

Zejun blushed so hard he thought he might cry. How could this person be so kind? He knew he shouldn’t detain him any longer, but he felt there was something he needed to say first. The words seemed to evade him, so he at least tried to answer Zewu Jun’s sentiment. 

“I’ll miss the sound of the xiao,” he murmured honestly. 

Zewu Jun seemed to take a sharp breath in, and when Zejun glanced at him he seemed conflicted. He cast his gaze away. “You will have the warmth of friends and laughter in Yunmeng to distract you. And many duties with which to use your newfound skills. I’m sure you will not miss the Cloud Recesses for long, if you do.”

But after saying this, the slight melancholy mood that seemed to have affected him gradually lifted and Lan Xichen smiled more warmly. He actually bowed to Fang Zejun, which Zejun hurriedly copied. 

“Be careful on your way,” he said warmly. 

“Zewu Jun,” Fang Zejun replied softly, and with that he took his leave.

The journey back home seemed at once short and far too long, especially after entering Yunmeng. Zejun’s heart pounded as he wondered whether Jiang Cheng would have missed him, or even noticed he was gone. He expected an awkward greeting and reluctant praise at completing his indoctrination. He could not have expected the scene he was about to find.

As he and the other clan members entered the gates, they could already hear shouting from one of the interior courtyards. After exchanging glances, they hurried toward the disturbance.

“How many times do I have to remind you what he did?!” Jiang Cheng’s shout echoed through the normally peaceful halls of Lotus Pier. “He is an enemy of this family and you can never understand the pain he has caused!”

To no one’s surprise, the object of his rage was Jin Ling, holding his sword at his side with hands that shook with anger and frustration. “I know better than anyone, Uncle!” he screamed back. “It’s you who forgets, I lost my parents before I ever knew them! You can’t know what that’s like!”

But unusually, this seemed to silence Jiang Cheng. He recoiled as if he had been struck and bared his teeth in anger, but could produce no response. 

“But the one to blame for their deaths is not him,” Jin Ling continued more softly, seeming to have gained a certain dignity and gravitas to his demeanor since Fang Zejun had seen him. “It’s Jin Guangyao. You, Uncle, are a good man. I have always tried to be like you. But I won’t let you bully me into doing something that is wrong, and cutting Wei Wuxian out of our lives like some stranger is wrong.”

Zejun’s eyebrows rose, equally surprised and impressed. He nervously looked toward Jiang Cheng for his reaction to this. 

Jiang Cheng’s anger seemed to have cooled, but Zejun knew better than to trust that. On occasion that only meant that he was burying his original wound even deeper, making reconciliation even harder. The whole courtyard waited with baited breath as he formed a reply.

Eventually, Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Of course. What would you care that he almost decimated the Jiang clan? You could care less about your mother’s clan, as long as you can be pampered in your peacock father’s.”

Jin Ling audibly gasped, even though he should be used to harsh words from his uncle. But even Zejun was surprised that Jiang Cheng would go so far as to insult Jin Zixuan in front of his son. Jin Ling bit his lip until it turned white, while his eyes grew slowly red.

“You want me to choose between you two?” Jin Ling hissed, though he was clearly hurt. “Fine. Then I choose the one who cares about me more than his own ego.”

Jin Ling whirled and stormed out of Lotus Pier without a second glance. Jiang Cheng didn’t even watch him leave. Fang Zejun could tell that at this moment Jiang Cheng was tortured with guilt, but also equally hurt that yet another person dear to him seemed to have chosen Wei Wuxian over him.

Zejun approached him even as other myrmidons warned him not to get close. “Clan Leader,” he said softly. “The nights are getting cold. Let me draw you a bath.”

Jiang Cheng reluctantly turned his gaze down toward Zejun, but barely acknowledged him. “You probably need one more than me,” he grumbled bitterly.

That reaction was mildly surprising. Normally Jiang Cheng’s rages lasted all evening. But that remark had been much softer than Zejun expected. Maybe he was just a little sentimental after all. 

He nodded with a smile. “I’ll see to it as soon as you’re settled for the evening.”

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve started to sound like a servant since I saw you. You should see to that.”

Zejun’s lips parted in surprise at how casually Jiang Cheng had dismissed the insecurity that Zejun had been sheltering in his heart all this time. Slowly, he managed a grateful smile. “I’ll blame the food in Gusu then.”

“Nh,” Jiang Cheng answered, walking away and flicking his head for Zejun to follow. “Get yourself some dinner as well.”

“I’ll certainly try, although it rather depends whether you still like your long baths, Clan Leader.”

“Keh,” Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Impudent. You are back, then.”

Zejun felt a grin creeping across his face as he walked beside his clan leader. “I am back.”


	4. Wooden Screen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiang Cheng confronts Fang Zejun to try to determine his feelings, but only realizes part of them.

Zejun only just ducked into the bathing area of Jiang Cheng's rooms to place a set of new clothes on the rack and pick up the ones Jiang Cheng had discarded, then slipped out again past the dividing screen. He was about to leave to hand off Jiang Cheng’s clothes to the servants when the clan leader took him up in conversation.

“Fang Zejun.” Zejun stopped to listen. “You know, Lan Qiren was gushing about you. In a letter he sent me,” he muttered, sounding somewhat bitter. 

Now that the pressure was removed and he was back safe at home, Zejun allowed himself a small, nostalgic smile. “He’s very kind.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve met him.” After a pause, and the sound of Jiang Cheng splashing water absently with his fingers, he muttered, “On the contrary, I can’t believe he hasn’t murdered Wei Wuxian yet, with him living like a shameless newlywed in the Cloud Recesses like that.”

Much though Zejun questioned Jiang Cheng’s absolutism where people like Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning were concerned, having spent quite a long time with both Wei Wuxian and Lan Qiren, he had to agree with Jiang Cheng’s assessment in this case. 

“I must admit, before spending much time with him, I thought some of the stories of your youth with Wei Wuxian were exaggerated,” Zejun said. “I never would have thought he could be so wantonly disrespectful. Or so purposefully irritating,” he added, his anger rising at the thought of what Wei Wuxian had almost let slip right in front of Jiang Cheng.

Whether or not Jiang Cheng had any opinion about this, he kept it to himself. “I would have thought you two would get along,” he said absently after a moment.

“In small doses, maybe,” Zejun sighed. “But I was impressed by one thing. Hanguang Jun is even more patient than I thought. Still no less unapproachable, however.”

Jiang Cheng was again unusually silent at this. Zejun started to worry that the topic of Wei Wuxian was a hurtful one at the moment, and he was just thinking he should try to change it when Jiang Cheng did so himself. 

“So you didn’t have anyone to rely on there?”

A small ache rose in Zejun’s chest at the thought Jiang Cheng might have been worried about him. But as much as he would be happy if it were true, he knew this level of empathy was a tough ask for Jiang Cheng. What could he really be asking about?

“I did feel out of place now and then,” Zejun admitted. “It would have been hard if not for Zewu Jun.”

There was a splash from behind the screen as if Jiang Cheng had moved suddenly. “What do you mean by that? What about Zewu Jun?”

Zejun was baffled by where Jiang Cheng was going with this. “I…just meant that he talked things out with me from time to time. He was kind, that’s all.”

Silence from Jiang Cheng. Then, “…’kind’?” he repeated, in a low tone of voice that Zejun couldn’t quite read.

“Yes…”

“Hmph,” scoffed the clan leader. There was a sound of water moving as if he leaned back in the tub. “So you’ll attach yourself to anyone who’s kind to you.”

The warmth Zejun had been feeling up until now at returning home instantly turned to ice. He took in a sharp breath, his chest stinging with pain. It wasn’t just that Jiang Cheng’s opinion of him seemed to be even lower than he thought. He would be hurt to have his loyalties questioned in any case. But he also couldn’t forget the way his heart had briefly wavered, just as Jiang Cheng accused. Suddenly those months of feeling like worthless scum returned to him and he was stunned into silence.

“Ah…that’s right. You ‘idolize people who’d never look at you twice.’ Was that it?” came the casually cruel voice from beyond the screen.

Fang Zejun stared blankly at the wooden screen in front of him. He knew in his heart that no matter what happened after this, it was too late. Jiang Cheng didn’t go back on his word. He could never be persuaded to forgive someone who had hurt him, even if the wound was a misunderstanding to begin with. Worst of all, in this case his words hit painfully home, as Zejun realized that the worst things he thought about himself were true.

“What? Offended?” Jiang Cheng persisted, clearly not realizing the extent of the damage he was doing to Zejun’s heart. “It’s hardly the first time I’ve looked down on you and your cut-sleeve business, is it?”

Zejun still couldn’t answer. He looked down at the floor, not knowing whether he should excuse himself quickly or just wait for Jiang Cheng to stop. He usually did stop, once he had gotten whatever current irritation he was having out of his system. Zejun just wanted things to return to normal. How long would he have to endure Jiang Cheng despising him for this?

The silence between them went on, until eventually there was a splash of water indicating Jiang Cheng had gotten out of the bath. Past the wooden screen, Zejun saw his hand reach for the fresh robes Zejun had brought him and panic flooded through him. He couldn’t face him now. After so long apart, with every part of him yearning to be back here with the one he cared about most, to be now hated more than ever was simply too much to bear. 

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, nearly running out the door.

“Stop!”

Despite the shiver that ran down him at disobeying Jiang Cheng, he had no intention of doing so. Suddenly a firm hand grasped his arm and shoved him back against the nearest wall. Jiang Cheng was breathing hard, his jaw tightening with frustration, as he pinned Zejun and glowered at him.

“You…what are you trying to do?” he demanded.

But Zejun had completely run out of energy to respond. He felt a tear run down his face but didn’t even feel sad anymore. This wasn’t sadness. It was despair. 

“I…I didn’t say anything to cry over, did I?!” Jiang Cheng barked at him, but looked guilty immediately afterward.

Zejun limply shook his head. “No. I’m the one in the wrong,” he murmured. 

Jiang Cheng now seemed flabbergasted. He didn’t know how to respond to people backing down from a fight instead of doubling down. Zejun knew this wasn’t the right way to deal with Jiang Cheng’s anger, but his mind was only full of thoughts of getting out of here as fast as possible.

“So…you…” Jiang Cheng murmured. It seemed as if he had understood something, but from what they had just been talking about, Zejun had no idea what it could be. Jiang Cheng’s grasp on his arm loosened slightly as the clan leader looked down. 

“If you liked it that much better at Cloud Recesses, you should have just stayed,” Jiang Cheng muttered without looking at him.

“What?” Zejun whispered. “Clan Leader…I’ve never been so lonely or lost…I would come back to Lotus Pier if it meant losing all my limbs. Selling my soul. Even if I’m not welcome here either.”

The Jiang clan leader blinked down at him with parted lips, seeming taken aback. His breath still seemed uneven as he gazed at Zejun, at so little distance that each could feel the others’ body heat. Jiang Cheng was only wearing an undergarment and his chest was mostly bare. Zejun’s head was swimming with the damp scent of Jiang Cheng’s skin, and he felt his face growing hot even as he reminded himself he had no right to feel this way.

“Why? What’s so special about Lotus Pier?” Jiang Cheng said softly, although he seemed as if he already knew the answer.

Zejun closed his eyes, his heart aching. “Everything I love is here.”

With no warning, a firm hand grasped his face and forcefully pushed his head back as lips claimed his own. Zejun moaned and struggled to cope with what was happening as he was shoved against the wall and kissed until he could barely breathe. His body felt on fire. He instantly felt he would cum if Jiang Cheng’s hands got any bolder. But at the same time he could not imagine what was causing this outrageous behavior.

He opened his mouth to object and found his tongue stopped by another. He shuddered and let out another moan inside Jiang Cheng’s mouth. When Jiang Cheng gave him a breath moment to recover, the clan leader grasped his wrist. While Zejun was still reeling from this situation, Jiang Cheng moved Zejun’s hand to cover the hottest part of his own body.

Zejun let out a gasp as Jiang Cheng used Zejun’s hand to close around his own cock. Zejun’s eyes fluttered and he briefly thought he would pass out from excitement. His worries melted away and he allowed himself to be bathed in pleasant sensations from bringing Jiang Cheng pleasure directly with his own hand.

As soon as his hand began to move, Jiang Cheng gasped. He planted both hands against the wall on either side of Zejun, lowering his head and panting against his shoulder. The sound of Jiang Cheng’s struggling breath against his ear sent waves of pleasure through Zejun’s whole body even though he hadn’t touched himself yet. 

With the gathering pace of Zejun’s hand stroking him, Jiang Cheng’s desire increased and he grasped onto Zejun’s arms, so tightly it hurt. But rather than stop, Zejun could not help pushing their hips together so the back of his fingers brushed his own painful hardness as he stroked Jiang Cheng. Whether or not he was aware of this, Jiang Cheng let out a manly moan and grasped Zejun tightly in his arms, thrusting his hips against Zejun’s.

Zejun vaguely tried to keep stroking him but Jiang Cheng panting and clinging to him was plenty enough to drive out all sentient thought with overwhelming pleasure. 

“Clan…leader…” he whispered in desperation.

As he felt himself cumming, he threw his head back. With his neck exposed, Jiang Cheng suddenly took the opportunity to bite down on it. 

“Ah!” Zejun gasped, his orgasm seeming to be drawn out until he feared for his sanity. He wasn’t even aware he liked biting as a sex act, but perhaps it was just because it was Jiang Cheng doing it.

Jiang Cheng’s teeth only reluctantly released him after his breathing had calmed down from his own orgasm, only moments after Zejun. But rather than let him go, that mouth instead began licking and softly biting higher up his neck, as if claiming him. Zejun let out odd gasps, unable to cope with the flood of sensations and relief and happiness running through him. 

But suddenly guilt at what he was allowing to happen, out of nothing more than personal satisfaction, gave him a breath of coherent thought. 

“C-…clan leader…” he tried again, softly. But it was agony fighting the pleasure of Jiang Cheng’s teeth and tongue on his neck. “Ngh…wait…!”

“For what? You practically just admitted you love me,” Jiang Cheng reminded him, snaking a hand around the small of his back possessively. 

Zejun closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. The happiness that Jiang Cheng was touching him intermingled with his guilt at the clan leader now realizing what Zejun had threatened to beat Wei Wuxian into a pulp for almost revealing. After all these years, not to mention the last few months, no part of him really trusted that he could have any lasting happiness with Jiang Wanyin.

“It’s not me…” Zejun murmured reluctantly. 

Though his heart pounded with nervousness that Jiang Cheng might push him away, he prepared himself that this might be the first and last time he was ever intimate with the one he loved. He grasped both of Jiang Cheng’s forarms, slightly loosening Jiang Cheng’s grip on him. They stayed this way for a while, with Jiang Cheng loosely holding his hips and Zejun resting his hands on Jiang Cheng’s arms. He slowly moved his hands upward, caressing the older man’s warm and hard muscles over the thin layer of fabric, coming to rest on his shoulders. 

After another moment of hesitation, he reached up and held Jiang Cheng’s face in both hands, feeling as if his heart would break with this moment of happiness. But he smiled softly and let it go as soon as he had it.

“I got some silly ideas in your head that night,” he said, trying not to sound patronizing but also purposefully pushing Jiang Cheng away. “I made you nervous. And confused you. I’m sorry. But now you know what it’s like, so you won’t have to wonder anymore. You’ll wake up tomorrow morning, and all will be as it was.”

Jiang Cheng’s lips parted as he spoke, but his face had an unusual contemplative look. To Zejun’s surprise, he didn’t appear to be taking his words at face value, even though that very naivete was one of the things Zejun liked most about him. 

“You’re not a cut-sleeve,” Zejun assured him.

Jiang Cheng frowned sharply at him, even though he seemed quite content in this intimate posture with Zejun. “…who said I was?”

Zejun actually had to try hard not to laugh, even though Jiang Cheng’s ignorance on this issue did hurt a little. “Well…whether you were or not, it’s not for you.” 

He met his clan leader’s eyes and tried to memorize their shape and color, afraid he would never be brave enough to look at them so closely again. He smiled and gently caressed Jiang Cheng’s cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re a model for all members of your sect,” he said softly. “It’s impossible to keep things like this secret forever. And…” He intended to continue along this line, but paused as something truly cruel occurred to him to say.

He hesitated because he knew it would hurt Jiang Cheng. However, it was a powerful weapon against allowing Jiang Cheng down the wrong path. Practically the only thing in the world that Zejun took seriously was serving Clan Leader Jiang. He would only feel guilty later if he had the power to stop this and didn’t use it. He mentally gave Jiang Cheng one last goodbye. 

“…Wei Wuxian would look down on you.”

Jiang Cheng barely seemed to react to this at first, but his body froze. Disbelief and rage gathered across his face. To Zejun’s surprise, he still showed no signs of letting him go.

“Wei Wuxian…?” Jiang Cheng hissed as if cursing. “Look down on me for what?! Doing the same thing as him but having the decency to do it privately?!”

“It’s not the same,” Zejun said calmly. “Hanguang Jun loves him too.”

Finally, Jiang Cheng recoiled and let his grasp on Zejun’s waist slip away. 

But he felt Jiang Cheng could still recover from this, finding one rationalization or another for his immediate desires, which Zejun mostly attributed to a mix of curiosity and simple sexual frustration. So he kept pushing.

“They are equals and respect each other. They most likely share a very strong bond from a previous life, and as proof, have been accepted by almost everyone. What you’re proposing would be more like laying your hands on a kitchen maid. I’ll always be here to help you with whatever you need. But I won’t let you become confused and do something you will regret.”

Jiang Cheng cast his eyes away, seeming deep in thought and quite at a loss. Zejun was initially satisfied that he seemed to have come to his senses, although along with that relief came a deep and unrelenting pain at his loss. But there was something off about his reaction. It wasn’t what Zejun would have expected. As proof of his miscalculation, something truly incomprehensible came out of Jiang Cheng’s mouth next. 

“If I was wrong, you could have just said so,” said the Jiang clan leader, with a calmness that surprised Zejun. If anything, rather than anger or offense, he seemed to be in pain. “There’s no need to go so far just to protect my feelings. Get out.”

At any other time, Zejun would not like to leave without finding out what as at the bottom of that comment. But in his relief that Jiang Cheng had made the right choice, and his need to protect his feelings from any further attacks, he bowed his head in acknowledgement, picked up the clothes he had dropped when Jiang Cheng grabbed him, and left.

Zejun felt numb after leaving Jiang Cheng’s presence. Just a few steps out into the cold of the night, he was filled with regret. Was he a fool? He would never get another chance like that again. Shouldn’t he just have allowed them to carry on secretly? Would it really be that hard to hide?

But he reassured himself that it was always better not to take the risk. And having learned his place very well in the last few months, he knew if anyone had the right to risk society’s reaction for the sake of love, it wasn’t him.


	5. The Ghost Cultivator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Zewu Jun comes to terms with unexpected loneliness, he seeks to solve the puzzle of the ghost reeking havoc in the cultivation world, only to find his own past pain an injury that puts him in even greater danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Zejun sings is "Boudoir Thoughts" by Xu Gan (170-217 CE), translation by Edward Lien.

It had been five days since the students of Yunmeng Jiang sect had returned home, leaving the Cloud Recesses. Though the days passed peacefully, Lan Xichen felt an emptiness that he had known very little of before now. The feelings that had stirred in him over these past few months had been slow to mature and even now had not reached his conscious acknowledgement of them. But the absence of their object caused a hole to open up inside him that day by day grew more palpable.

“Zewu Jun,” said an outer disciple, who had come to find him in his study. 

“Yes?”

“You asked us to alert you of reports of the Hero Ghost.”

Xichen frowned. “The what ghost?”

The disciple flushed with embarrassment. “…the common people’s name for it, Clan Leader. I mean the ghost that carries a sword.”

“Ah…of course. And there has been a report?”

The young disciple nodded. “Two outer disciples were assaulted on the road, only barely surviving the encounter.”

“Our sect members?” Lan Xichen immediately got to his feet. “Show me.”

The two gravely injured disciples had been taken directly to Lan Qiren for treatment. But as soon as Xichen saw his uncle caring for the two with his shaking old hands, fighting the urge to cough, he felt another sting of pain at the thought that the remaining years of depending on his uncle were likely not many.

“Master,” he said, kneeling beside him. “How are they?”

“Both will recover, in time,” Qiren said. “The damage from facing a ghost is probably greater psychologically than physically.”

Xichen nodded in agreement. “Is either able to speak?”

Qiren sighed, straightening his beard. “Though not fatal, their injuries were both severe. More than disabling, with only a few more minutes’ blood loss, their lives would have been in danger. For now, even slight movements could reopen their wounds. I have put them both into a deep sleep, where they should remain for at least a day and a night.”

“I’m sure that is for the best,” Xichen said, though it was frustrating not to be able to know what had happened to them.

“Zewu Jun,” came Sizhui’s voice. The young man, whom Xichen had genuinely begun to view as a nephew, entered the infirmary with another disciple reluctantly following behind him. “Zhu Huyi was also there. Go on,” he added encouragingly to the nervous younger disciple.

Huyi swallowed, looking from Lan Qiren to Lan Xichen. Xichen smiled disarmingly and nodded for her to speak. “You’ve been through a lot. If you can, please tell us what you can remember.”

Though clearly intimidated to be in the Clan Leader’s presence, Zhu Huyi gathered herself and said, “The ghost…was almost the height of…you, Zewu Jun. Androgynous and beautiful, but I think a woman. Wearing all white, unbound white hair, carrying a white-sheathed sword.”

Xichen sighed. Though this firsthand information was useful, he felt guilty that the very problem Jiang Wanyin had warned him about months ago had persisted this long, and even injured his own clan members. 

“Continue,” he said. “And if you can, please tell me, what happened just before the ghost appeared?”

“I…that is…” she faltered, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry, Clan Leader. We were playing a foolish game. He Xianghui was teasing Cai Changru,” she said, indicating the two injured disciples. “Grabbing me and threatening…”

Xichen’s jaw tensed slightly as he guessed what she was about to say. He knew these things happened, and they were barely more than children so it was understandable, but he expected more from even outer disciples, especially when they left the boundaries of the Cloud Recesses and were representing their sect to the world. 

“Yes?” he pressed, carefully keeping the tension from his voice.

“…to take me away from him.”

“Hmph,” Lan Qiren scoffed disdainfully. But Xichen was grateful that he did, as it helped to cool his own disappointment when he realized he didn’t want to be as unforgiving as his uncle.

“I see,” Xichen said gently. “Cai Changru cares about you very much.”

Zhu Huyi looked mortified and refrained from answering, but at this point she didn’t need to. “It was only a joke,” she whispered. “But when I yelled out…that was when the ghost appeared.”

“When you cried out, then it appeared?”

“Yes.”

Lan Xichen exchanged a glance with his uncle, already forming an idea about the deeper nature of this ghost’s presence.

“All right. And after it appeared, what did it do?”

“It told Xianghui to let me go. He did. And then…” Her face twisted with pain at the memory. “…it said…”

“…yes?”

“…it said those who prey on women should be punished. It…cut them…it was so fast I didn’t even realize what had happened. And then it turned to me,” she clasped her own cheek with a shaking hand. “…touched my face. And then it said, ‘I’m sorry. Don’t cry, A-se. I’ll find you.’ Then it disappeared.”

The conscious occupants of the room let out a collective shiver. The nature of this creature was certainly terrifying. But several unusual details were sticking in Xichen’s mind. He was about to ask about them when another voice did so before him.

“It’s the ‘I’ll find you’ part. That’s the real puzzle,” said Wei Wuxian, gliding into the middle of the room as if he had been invited. Lan Qiren bristled at his unexpected presence, but this was a rare occasion when he had to acknowledge the trouble-maker might be most useful. 

Wangji came in behind him but as usual was content to remain in the background, listening as the story unfolded.

“Mm,” Xichen agreed with Wei Wuxian’s comment. “Master Wei is correct. Even for a ghost, to address someone as ‘you’ and in the same breath express inability to find the addressee strains logic.”

“You say she touched you?” Wei Ying asked of Zhu Huyi. She nodded hesitantly, to which Wei Wuxian smirked. “Not to be indelicate, but…how did she feel?”

Qiren coughed loudly, while Huyi blushed and Wangji cast a discouraging glance at him. Huyi managed, “I don’t know…I was scared…I wasn’t really paying attention…”

“Cold?”

Huyi frowned as she thought. But in the end, she shook her head. “No…not noticeably.”

Wei Wuxian seemed delighted by this. He continued, “And when you say she appeared or disappeared, do you mean she faded into smoke in front of you? Used a talisman? Walked through a magic door?”

“N-no…I only meant it came out of the wilderness, and then went back to it.”

“And so, you think she’s a ghost because…?” Wei Wuxian asked with a grin, apparently having reached the point that he was aiming for.

“It…it must have been! It was glowing, and so white and…beautiful…it definitely wasn’t mortal!”

“Mm,” he nodded sagely. “In the dark, white fabric appears to glow slightly. Lan Zhan sometimes looks like an angel fluttering down from heaven, so I get confused and think I’ve died again.” He laughed loudly at his own joke, only to the echoing silence of everyone else in the room. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “But in the end, the only ghostly thing about this person is her appearance.”

Xichen sighed, but gave a reluctant nod. “This is no ghost. It’s a cultivator.”

“Precisely,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “The next question then is…who is ‘A-se’?”

Xichen had an idea the moment he heard the unusual name, even before Wei Wuxian’s presence sparked his memory, but he hoped he was wrong, so he kept it from his lips. The pieces had more or less fallen into place in his mind, but until some proof appeared, he would not risk making the situation worse by involving more people. 

He got to his feet and turned to his brother. “Wangji. Can I leave things in your hands here while I look into this matter?”

Wangji’s lips parted in uncertainty. “Xiong-zhang…let me go.”

Xichen forced a small smile and shook his head. He would like to explain things to Wangji, but in his heart he doubted his brother would be able to keep the truth from his husband for long. “I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle. But I would be grateful for your help here.”

“That’s right. Wangji, here. Play and help them to heal,” Qiren instructed, guiding Wangji to a seat at the front of the room. Though he seemed deeply reluctant to put his brother in danger when he could go himself, Wangji reluctantly obeyed and produced his guqin. 

Lan Xichen left the infirmary and was about to gather some inner disciples with him to leave when a merry voice stopped him. “Zewu Jun! Wait up, just a minute.”

He patiently turned around and offered an artfully constructed smile. “Master Wei. Is something troubling you?”

“Mm…not really,” Wei Wuxian deflected, folding his arms innocently. “Just got the feeling that maybe there was something you didn’t want to say in front of all those people. I can go with you and we can talk as we go. How about that?”

Xichen covered his mouth with his sleeve to hide a chuckle. You are bright, Wei Wuxian, he thought to himself, but also the last person I would like to involve in this. 

“Please don’t worry,” he said. “I only feel personally responsible for letting the issue get out of hand. Please help Wangji while I’m gone.”

Wei Wuxian briefly gave a comically disdainful expression that made it clear he didn’t buy a single thing Xichen was saying. But he wiped it away within an instant and nodded innocently. “No worries. Take care then.”

Xichen turned and let out a heavy breath, wondering if he would always have to watch his back around Wei Wuxian. 

He took with him Sizhui and Jingyi, along with a handful of others in whom he had a reasonable amount of trust. If they could end this quietly, while the ghost cultivator was still in the area, it would be just that much the better for everyone, but he had a bad feeling about this case. The very persistence of this mysterious person told him that, if they were not careful, the very act of halting this rampant destruction would yield a particularly vengeful spirit.

They went first to the place Zhu Huyi claimed she and the others had been attacked. Indeed, there were copious blood stains on the forest floor. There was no doubt the attack had happened here. Xichen focused his senses on the traces of spiritual energy that should be left behind by a powerful cultivator’s attack. Sure enough, he shivered as he felt the traces of a sword strike in a nearby tree stump. He was relieved not to recognize this energy, but concerned at how formidable the owner seemed, even in these traces.

He looked around the clearing for clues as to which way the owner may have gone. He sighed as he saw nothing that stood out in particular. 

“Sizhui,” he said. “Would you perform an Inquiry?”

Sizhui obediently stepped forward, but looked puzzled. “But, Zewu Jun…didn’t you say it wasn’t a ghost?”

“Not the one we’re looking for. But I have a worry that there may be one involved in this case nevertheless.”

Sizhui cast his eyes down as he realized some of Xichen’s meaning. He nodded. “Yes.”

He sat down and produced his guqin. As he grew more mature, Xichen thought that Sizhui’s delicate hand movements more and more resembled Wangji’s. His graceful fingers played a calling sequence and then paused, waiting for an answer. Two light harmonic notes told him he had one.

Sizhui looked up at Xichen and nodded. “There is one here.”

“Please ask if they saw a cultivator dressed all in white.”

Sizhui took a moment to produce the slightly unusual musical phrase in his head, then played it. After a brief pause, one harmonic note followed. “Yes,” Sizhui said.

“Asking which direction she went will be sufficient for now.”

Sizhui played as Xichen instructed, and the answer came just as quickly. “ ‘Follow the river.’ ”

Xichen only just noticed the sound of water and he and the others moved quickly to follow it. The moon was high, so their path was relatively clear as they traced the ghost-like cultivator’s path. At last they reached a simple grass hut on the river bank, in which Xichen was shocked to find the occupant sitting meditatively as if waiting for them.

The white head had been lowered, but it rose as they approached. White-lashed eyes fluttered open against inexplicably young-looking cheekbones. Just as the reports said, this cultivator’s gender was impossible to tell on sight, tall and clearly strong yet willowy and graceful. And Zewu Jun realized something else as soon as he saw this person; it wasn’t just beauty that captivated her victims. He recognized the emotion in this tragic figure in himself from not so very long ago. This creature was heartbroken.

Though she was clearly aware of their presence, there seemed to be a lack of recognition in the way she did not look directly at them. This too no doubt added to the ghostly quality about her, but Lan Xichen was certain now, though greatly cultivated and likely much older than she seemed, this person was a living human. 

Not quite sure why himself, he waited for the cultivator to speak. But she likewise seemed unwilling to act first, observing them passively with a gaze cast far away. He took in a breath to steady himself, then calmly addressed her.

“Shifu,” he said, selecting the most neutral respectful term lest he cause offense. “Leader of the Gusu Lan Sect, Lan Xichen, would like to ask you several questions regarding recent injuries to our clan members.”

The cultivator’s white head tilted just slightly in thought. “Gusu Lan Sect,” she repeated, as if the words were new. Indeed, the voice was just as androgynous as everything else about them, and Xichen wondered if he had been mistaken after all.

“Yes,” he said patiently. “May I ask your name?”

The ghostly cultivator seemed somewhat disappointed, and at first it seemed they would not answer. A long-fingered and graceful hand stretched down to just faintly touch the leaves of a wild chrysanthemum growing on the bank, and Xichen soon realized that both the hut covering them and the cultivator’s presence here were on account of this one late-blooming flower. 

Sadness was etched in deep lines over their face for several long moments. The voice when it emerged again struck Xichen’s heart like a physical wound. 

“Don’t ask me. Say I died. I am only a fierce corpse, no attachment to this world at all.”

“None at all?” Xichen asked softly. “What is it you covet there?”

White-lashed eyes blinked as moisture formed in them. “…she liked these.”

“ ‘She’…?”

The cultivator closed their eyes as a tear slipped down their pearly cheek. “Gusu Lan Sect,” they said again, shocking him with the disconnection to the previous topic. “Lanlin Jin Sect. Qishan Wen Sect. Qinghe Nie Sect.” They uttered the names as if casting an evil spell. Their head lowered and they concluded in a low voice, “Yunmeng…Jiang Sect. Five branches of the same corrupt tree. What do you cultivate, in this unclean realm? Nothing but rot.”

Xichen carefully kept himself from taking any of this personally or becoming nervous at how disconnected and malevolent her speech seemed to be. If this person were who he suspected, there might well be a completely different code of conduct where they came from.

“Baoshan Sanren,” he said softly. The cultivator’s movements halted. Slowly, they retracted their hand and glanced in Xichen’s direction, though still not directly at him. “Is that your name?”

A small sigh. “My mother would never fall so far as I have,” they said, and with that rose to their feet. The young disciples at Xichen’s back quickly grasped their swords, but he held out a hand to quiet them. “She warned me many times what loving A-se would do to me. That every beautiful thing I had ever achieved would turn to ash. But I thought, as long as she were living, there was nothing I had that I couldn’t bear to lose.”

Despite his own admonition to himself as this conversation began, Xichen’s chest felt struck with pain as he listened to this low voice murmuring over the moonlit river. He closed his eyes, wishing but not knowing how to prevent a flood of memoires from grasping at his heart. Truly, he thought, there was no greater wisdom his uncle had imparted to him than the danger of love, yet it was the one lesson he failed to heed properly.

“Now this world is nothing but dross to me,” the ghost cultivator went on, unfortunately drawing their sword so gracefully and silently that Xichen barely noticed. “I’ll cut it to pieces until I find her.”

Zewu Jun took a quick breath as he realized what was about to happen. “Stop!” he said, though realizing it was too late for words. “You can’t find her this way!”

A flash of cold steel. Xichen quickly drew Shuoyue, but not fast enough to prevent the white sword slicing deep into a young disciple’s chest. Xichen caught the ghost cultivator’s sword before it could reach anyone else, and he did his best to force her back. 

The ghost cultivator at once seemed frozen in place and would suddenly appear to have moved instantly from one place to another, like a fish appearing and disappearing beneath a frozen river. It was a style of swordsmanship he was utterly unfamiliar with, and took all his concentration to follow. 

At one point when there swords locked quite close, the ghost cultivator frowned at him, looking almost surprised. “Who are you?”

“Eh…?”

As he struggled to understand the abrupt question so late in the interaction, the ghost cultivator’s sword came swinging back around and he only just had time to block. The force sent him hurtling away, and he dug his heel into the ground to stop, then returned to engage her again. 

“I can help you,” he said during a pause. “Return with me to my clan. We will help you to heal from her loss, and move on.”

“Heal what? There’s nothing left of me.” Her hand shot out and suddenly grabbed him by the throat. As he was struggling to breathe, she said, “See for yourself.”

As soon as she touched him, he was transported to places and times that were not his own. Flash after flash of painful and beautiful memory, tangled in bitter torment and loss. Among them, the same two images over and over. A somewhat familiar smiling face of a young woman. Her departing back. These memories and the emotions attached to them were full of this woman. Despite himself, Zewu Jun felt tears rising to his eyes.

The hand around his throat loosened. Xichen crumpled to the ground, unable to bear the pain standing. He clutched his chest and breathed in ragged gasps. Tears dropped down one after another onto the cold ground as he struggled to cope with a lifetime of love and loss being suddenly forced on him. 

His ears were ringing as if he had been hit in the head, and he was helpless almost a full minute. In that time, he was vaguely aware of battle taking place above his head. His disciples were valiantly working together, using every trick they could think of to isolate and slow the ghost cultivator. He struggled to one knee and then sank back down again as sadness flooded through him. Even knowing how shameful it was, he sobbed as Meng Yao’s face entered his mind, and he cursed the fate that had taken him away, even after knowing of his betrayal.

“A-yao…” he whispered.

Just then, a warm and sweetly ringing sound cut through the darkness.

“…floating clouds—how far they drift!  
I wish they could carry my message.  
But drifting aimlessly, they can convey nothing;  
Pacing restlessly, I long for you in vain.  
When people part, they always meet again…”

All, including the ghost cultivator, had stopped to listen to the soothing and plaintive voice that rose up from deeper in the forest. By the time the singer became visible, tears were falling one after another from the eyes of the ghost cultivator, though her expression had barely changed. 

“It hurts,” she said softly. “Stop it.”

“Fang…Zejun…” Xichen tried to warn him to stay away, certain that if he had this much trouble then Zejun was no match for the ghost cultivator.

Zejun glanced at the state Xichen was in, but did not halt his song. 

“…you alone have no set time for return.  
Since you have gone  
My bright mirror lies dark and neglected.  
My longing for you is like flowing water;  
How can it ever end?”

When Xichen blinked, the ghost cultivator suddenly stood directly in front of Fang Zejun, towering over him like a phantom sent to claim his soul. Her hand slowly closed around his throat. “Stop,” she whispered.

Zejun barely seemed to notice her presence and continued his song. That was likely the only thing preventing her from flooding his mind with memories as she had done with Xichen. But that strategy would only work for a moment, as at this rate she was just going to kill him instead. With a shaking hand, Xichen grasped Liebing. But he was afraid to play. With his heart as ravaged as it was, there was every chance that playing with spiritual power would only call forth more dark emotions to all present. He grasped Shouyue with a shaking hand, not knowing what else to do. 

“Zejun…” he murmured.


	6. Evening Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conflict with the ghost cultivator reaches its climax, and Lan Xichen asks Fang Zejun to stay in the Cloud Recesses.

Just as Zejun’s voice began to grow hoarse from being squeezed, there was a snap of purple lightning. It wrapped around the ghost cultivator’s hand and yanked it back. Her grip was broken but she remained standing in front of Zejun, watching him. After realizing that a powerful ally had arrived, Sizhui took advantage of her temporary distraction to quickly set about stopping the blood flow of the injured disciple.

Jiang Cheng stepped out from the forest, having been apparently right behind Zejun. “You need some more practice, Zejun. This ghost fellow still looks fine to me.”

The ghost cultivator’s eyes gradually raised and focused on Jiang Cheng. The air seemed to grow cold all around her as she stared at him. “Yunmeng…Jiang…sect…” she whispered. Rage filled her eyes.

The next moment, Jiang Cheng had to raised his sword or lose his head. The white apparition poured hammering blows down on him, testing even his great strength. Zejun continued his song, which was likely slowing her down somewhat, but not enough for Jiang Cheng to gain a clear advantage. It was starting to look dire, as none of the disciples were in any state to help, and Jiang Cheng’s strength would eventually run out. 

“A mortal…human…man…” the ghost cultivator grunted between blows. “For such a paltry thing, she was taken from me?!”

“No offense to either of you, but I don’t think Jiang Cheng is really anything to worry about,” came a merry voice from just beyond the clearing.

“…the hell you say?!” Jiang Cheng demanded angrily as he recognized the voice.

The ghost cultivator froze when she heard it. She looked down toward the speaker.

Wei Wuxian chuckled as he revealed himself from out of the forest, with Lan Wangji of course close behind him. “You’re certainly a catch, even at your age. I don’t think Jiang Cheng is any real competition for you.”

As he spoke, Lan Wangji produced his guqin and began to accompany Zejun’s song, increasing the soothing power of the music.

“A-se…” the ghost whispered.

“Mm?” Wei Wuxian tilted his head in confusion.

The ghost cultivator fluttered down to stand before Wei Wuxian, seeming utterly captivated by him. As Fang Zejun and Lan Wangji dutifully kept up the song, she clutched at her chest and stumbled. Wei Wuxian instinctively reached out to steady her. The next thing they all knew, she grasped his face in both hands and looked as if she would kiss him.

“A-se…” she murmured with moving tenderness and pain. “My heart…not dead…? I missed…you…”

She briefly buried her face in his neck, causing Wei Wuxian to blush. He quickly glanced at Lan Wangji, whose jaw muscles had tightened, though there was not even a tremor to his playing. “No…look, I’m not doing anything! You see my hands? Look!”

“A-se…” the ghost cultivator murmured, still clinging to him. She stroked his hair softly as if comforting a child. “I’m so sorry…I should never have let you go alone…it’s all right now. I’ll never leave you again.”

“Mm…mm?” Wei Wuxian helplessly tried to respond but had no idea what was happening. “That’s…nice. What did you call me though?”

“A-se,” the ghost cultivator responded obediently. 

“From…?”

“Cangse…Sanren.”

Wei Wuxian’s ever-present mirth suddenly departed from him. “…my mother?”

Xichen lowered his head as he listened. Though part of his desire to settle this without involving anyone else had been to avoid complicating the matter, it was also true he wished to spare Wei Wuxian this pain. 

The more details about the case emerged, the more clear it was that this ghost cultivator was a member of a non-hereditary and ascetic sect, removed from the world. The most prominent and as far as he knew the most powerful such sect was Baoshan Sanren’s. If that were the case, he suspected there would be some connection to one of the other departed members, if not Wei Wuxian’s mother herself. And finally a term of endearment like “A-se” could easily refer to Cangse Sanren. But as it was, Xichen was still recovering from having his emotions ransacked, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He quickly set about healing his own qi.

The ghost cultivator’s fingers tightened over Wei Wuxian’s clothes. She seemed hurt to be told he wasn’t his mother, but not surprised. “No…you’re not…but it’s all right,” she mumbled, her speech as ever somewhat disconnected from those around her. “I’ll keep this part of you safe. I won’t…ever…”

But at that point Zejun and Wangji’s song seemed to reach a point she couldn’t bear any longer. She slipped down Wei Wuxian’s body as her legs grew weak. She clung to his waist but still appeared to dwarf him given Mo Xianyu’s much smaller body than Wei Wuxian’s original one.

“…ever…leave you…A-se…”

Gradually the ambient noise was reduced only to the murmuring of the stream, the enthralling pitter patter of rain-like notes from the guqin, and Fang Zejun’s comforting voice.

“Although I lodge in a far-away place,  
How I can I forget you even for an instant?  
Our past love and devotion were not slight;  
I hope that you will always think of me.”

As the song ended, the ghost cultivator seemed to lose consciousness, while still clinging to Wei Wuxian. Though he was not surprised, Wei Wuxian’s eyes turned to Xichen’s. There was accusation in them. 

As Xichen was still struggling to recover his strength, he felt hands surround him and help him up. He leaned on the owner, at first expecting it was Sizhui, but realizing quickly that instead of white the person beside him wore deep blue. He blushed at how naturally he had gotten in such an intimate position, and how he wasn’t yet recovered enough to let go.

Jiang Cheng looked over the seemingly unconscious ghost cultivator, still clinging motionlessly to Wei Wuxian’s robes, and then glared at Xichen and Zejun, who had helped him up. He did not look happy, but then Xichen wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen Jiang Wanyin happy. 

“Zewu Jun,” he said curtly. “You don’t look so good.”

Despite himself, Xichen managed a small chuckle. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Xiong-zhang,” said Wangji, approaching and unhesitatingly taking over his weight from Zejun. “Back to the Cloud Recesses.”

Xichen nodded. The whole party gathered up, with Wei Wuxian mysteriously offering to carry the ghost cultivator himself, after giving Xichen another significant look. They took the injured disciple to Lan Qiren in the infirmary, and brought the ghost cultivator to a holding cell. Though these were intended for meditation, they had the ability to be locked from the outside with a talisman, and Xichen asked Wangji to do so. 

“So,” Wei Wuxian asked, as they all stood outside the cell, watching the unconscious cultivator as if waiting for her to strike. “Is it about time for Zewu Jun to enlighten us about what happened this evening?”

Xichen’s smile was bitter, despite his best effort. “You don’t need my explanation, do you, Master Wei?”

“I still deserve it though.”

Xichen nodded with a reluctant smile. “Right you are. From the start, killing by sword should not be possible for a ghost, so both I and Clan Leader Jiang assumed the perpetrator was human. If so, she was most likely a cultivator. The most well-known sect of cultivation with any mystery left to it is Baoshan Sanren’s ascetic clan. The descriptions of the spirit sounded very much like those I had heard of the clan leader herself, but from this person’s speech, it would seem to be not the leader herself, but her daughter. Or son. I am still not quite sure.”

“Hmph,” Wei Wuxian muttered, watching the sleeping cultivator. “So you guessed that she might have known my mother too.”

“Yes.”

“But that’s not all, is it?”

Xichen shook his head. “From what one of my disciples told me of the encounter earlier this evening, this ghost cultivator at the very least had a deep attachment to your mother specifically.”

“Mhm,” said Wei Wuxian, looking calm but actually quite angry from what Xichen knew of his behavior. “But wise Zewu Jun thought to himself, it’s best not to tell me this,” he said accusingly. It was not a question.

“I feared this person becoming a vengeful spirit, which would only become more attached to this world upon realizing who you were,” Xichen said, which was mostly the truth. “I did not expect that we would be able to capture her alive. Thank you for your help in doing that, Fang Zejun.”

Zejun flinched slightly at being drawn into the conversation. He blushed and merely shook his head dismissively.

“Nevertheless, I am sorry for keeping her connection to you a secret, Master Wei,” Xichen went on, and clasped his hands to bow to Wei Wuxian.

Even after this show of humility, the precocious young man shifted his jaw and avoided looking at Lan Xichen. Wangji placed a hand in the center of his back and said simply, “Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian puffed out a disgruntled sigh. “All right, all right. You’re forgiven, Zewu Jun. So what’s going to happen to her now?”

Xichen didn’t want to think about that. Having been inside her head, however briefly, he knew how broken she was. He had no idea how a human heart could recover from such pain, no matter how otherworldly they might be. Most importantly, there was no cure for someone who did not want to heal.

“Fang Zejun’s voice seemed to help her,” said Sizhui.

With a slight ache in his chest that he found difficult to place, Xichen turned his gaze to Zejun. The young man had a characteristic furrow between his brows that showed his reluctance.

“…I don’t think it really helped,” he mumbled. “She complained of pain until Hanguang Jun started playing.”

Xichen nodded. “The pain was constant for her. No doubt she has become accustomed to it. Your song might only have given her something besides pain, in effect reawakening the nerves.”

Zejun looked deeply troubled by this but refrained from responding. 

“What?” Jiang Cheng turned to Zejun and asked him harshly. “You looking for an excuse to stay in the Cloud Recesses? Waiting for me to give permission? Speak.”

Xichen felt his fists tighten at the way Jiang Cheng addressed his subordinate. He hoped he would feel this protective of anyone, but he suspected part of the reason was knowing how much Jiang Wanyin’s approval meant to Fang Zejun.

The young man seemed to have trouble giving voice to his thoughts, and even when he did it was barely audible. “I’m not…trying to leave Lotus Pier…”

“Hmph,” Jiang Cheng scoffed, folding his arms. 

“Stay.”

All eyes turned to Lan Xichen as he was suddenly forced to account or his out of character statement of rudeness both to Jiang Cheng and Fang Zejun. Xichen merely offered a smile toward Jiang Cheng, although admittedly it was a hollow one as his heart had not yet recovered from the ghost cultivator’s touch. 

“Please allow Zejun to stay and see if his singing can be of help, Clan Leader Jiang,” Xichen said, making sure to keep his tone steady.

Jiang Wanyin was no fool, and his anger had a hair trigger, but there seemed to be more to this situation than Xichen realized. Jiang Cheng glared in disbelief at Xichen, but then his gaze darted to Zejun. Zejun meanwhile stared fixedly at the ground, avoiding Jiang Cheng’s gaze completely. Jiang Cheng walked straight up to him so their faces were inches apart and looked down on him menacingly. But without another word, he walked straight past Zejun and seemed to be ready to leave the Cloud Recesses all by himself.

At first, Xichen was relieved that he had agreed so quickly, but in moments he realized things were undoubtedly going to be strained between the myrmidon and his master now. But then, to the surprise of everyone else present, Zejun’s face twisted with anger and he stormed off after Jiang Cheng.

“Clan Leader!” he shouted, utterly shattering the silence of the Cloud Recesses. In the distance they saw him catch up to Jiang Cheng, grasp him by the arm and say in a dangerous undertone, “You come with me.”

With that, he dragged a shocked Jiang Cheng into a private room and slammed the sliding door behind them, practically rocking it off its hinges. The two Lan brothers, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Sizhui, all stared open-mouthed at the aftermath of the closed door echoing through the courtyard. 

“Ho-ho!” Wei Wuxian giggled triumphantly. “He finally took my advice.”

“…what advice would that be, Master Wei?” Xichen asked with deep suspicion.

Wei Wuxian chuckled, flicking his finger across his nose playfully. “I told him the only thing to do with superior types is hold them down. Poor Jiang Cheng! He’s so proud, he won’t take naturally to bottoming.”

Lan Wangji flicked a glare at him and seemed to be contemplating whether or not to hit him. Meanwhile, a flush extended from Xichen’s neck all the way up to his ears. He covered with mouth with a hand as his mind was overwhelmed with unexpected and shocking information. And also a new fissure of pain echoing through his heart. Had this new attachment ended before it had even begun?


	7. Meditation Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fang Zejun confronts Jiang Cheng about his attitude, and is shocked to discover the real reason behind it.

Zejun could feel his own hands shaking as soon as he had Clan Leader Jiang alone. He hadn’t planned anything out when he did this. He had only reached his limit of Jiang Cheng taking out his frustrations on him, and knew they had to clear the air. But despite his occasional lapse in protocol, he had never gone so far as to physically drag Jiang Cheng anywhere.

Though he had seemed shocked at first, now that they were alone, Jiang Cheng glared at the opposite wall as if Zejun wasn’t there. He was definitely angry, not just disgusted or fed up with Zejun. It was time to find out why.

Jiang Cheng looked around the empty room, which seemed to be a meditation room, and folded his arms. “Well. Now you’ve dragged me in here. It must be important, to risk your place in the world by going against your Clan Leader’s wishes. Out with it then.”

“I have nothing to say,” Zejun growled, with such open anger that it caused Jiang Cheng to look at him in surprise. “I brought you here to listen.” He swallowed as he immediately envisioned the worst answer possible, clenching his fists to give himself the courage to continue. “Whatever is bothering you…is it something I did?”

Jiang Cheng’s lips parted, but other than that he managed to restrain his facial expression. Zejun had never seen him like this. Jiang Cheng did not hide his emotions. He was immediacy, he was honesty, he only ran from emotions that he knew caused harm to others, instead twisting them in on himself. Zejun had no idea what was happening inside him right now.

“Oh no. Zejun is the perfect vassal. He’s even a pet of Zewu Jun. How could he possibly do anything wrong?” Jiang Cheng needled viciously. 

Zejun knew this was intentionally baiting him, but still he was struck by how cruel Jiang Cheng was being. “Zewu Jun again? I don’t understand…Clan Leader, you sent me to the Cloud Recesses! If you didn’t want me to be influenced by Wei Wuxian or…Zewu Jun? Then why do that?!”

“Hmph,” Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Not that I need to explain myself to a myrmidon, but I had thought some discipline would be good for you. Instead you came back meek and subservient, while your cut-sleeve problem has only gotten worse. Why shouldn’t I be bitter about Zewu Jun giving in to your indecency?”

Zejun nearly lost the strength in his legs from anger and disbelief. He actually struggled to breathe. On top of repeating the traumatizing “myrmidon” comment that had sat heavy in Zejun’s heart for months, he called Zejun’s sexuality a “problem.” Not only that, but he seemed to think Zejun had taken up some kind of dalliance with the perfect Lan sect leader. There was so much wrong with everything he had just heard that he struggled even to speak for several moments.

Jiang Cheng eventually flicked a glance his way. “What’s that face for?” he demanded. “Offended again?”

Zejun’s jaw clenched and the rage finally boiled up inside him to an explosion.

“I’m…not…fucking Zewu Jun!!!” 

Fang Zejun shouted at his clan leader for the first time in his life, rattling the sliding doors of the meditation room and (unbeknownst to him) echoing through the early dawn courtyard outside, startling several people still standing close enough to hear. In the lingering echo, Jiang Cheng was making a face as if Zejun had just spat out a whole person. Zejun panted though a wave of outrage until it eventually subsided and his cheeks grew bright red with equal parts embarrassment and frustration. 

He swallowed hard and tried to start again. “If…if you really are that disgusted…then…there’s nothing I can do. But is that really all it is? You just can’t stand the thought of two men together…so much that it’s driving you to distraction?”

By now Jiang Cheng had recovered himself, and his anger, and his brows furrowed together in the same expression he showed so often to Jin Ling. “What now? You’re pretending that night never happened?”

Zejun’s flush returned, this time with embarrassment. “I…how could I…? I only meant-“

“You made it very clear what you meant. You love Yunmeng, so you stay with me. You let me lay hands on you, even though you prefer loftier heights,” he said bitterly, nodding his head out toward where Zewu Jun and the others were. “And you’d never even look twice at someone who had feelings for you first.”

By the end of this phrase, though his face was still a mask of anger, the corners of Jiang Cheng’s eyes were red. And as Zejun watched, a tear ran down his stern and unforgiving face. He wiped it away bitterly and kept his gaze far away from where Zejun was.

Fang Zejun felt as if he had been struck by a tidal wave. It took him several long seconds to form speech again. “…first…?” he mumbled helplessly.

Jiang Cheng sniffed, but kept his expression hard. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Well. Now your dream has come true. You’ve got a great excuse to stay here, then come back to Yunmeng whenever it suits your fancy. Unless I don’t let you back. How about that? Then you can cling to Zewu Jun until he-“

Zejun simply couldn’t take any more nonsense from this hopeless man, and stopped his lips with an overpowering kiss. To his surprise, Jiang Cheng made a cute noise of surprise and then moaned softly. He wiggled uncomfortably in Zejun’s grasp but didn’t push him away. And when he finally released him, Jiang Cheng let out a gasp and clung to him, trembling.

The pitiful clan leader glared at him for an explanation, but belied the expression by curling his fingers against Zejun’s shoulders. Zejun caressed his face with a gentle touch.

“Yunmeng is a wonderful place. But that’s not what I meant,” he murmured.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes slowly widened. Then one after another, hot tears dripped down his cheeks as he stared in confusion at Zejun’s face, while at the same time he gradually melted against his body. 

“You’re lying…” Jiang Cheng grumbled.

Zejun shook his head. “I…said what I said then…trying to make things easier for you. I assumed you already knew I loved you. And that if I said it out loud, I’d confuse you more. You’re so kind and give so much of yourself to other people…I was afraid you’d say yes even if you felt nothing.”

Jiang Cheng sniffed again and looked away bitterly. “Give me back those dreams I had about you then. Give me back the time I spent agonizing over it, you callous bastard.”

“Dreams?” Zejun asked, tilting his head coquettishly.

Jiang Cheng’s mouth fell opened as he quickly backtracked. “I didn’t say that! You didn’t hear it! Stop clinging to me, I’m going home!”

Zejun chuckled as Jiang Cheng wiggled in his grasp. “Stay a little longer.”

Zejun punctuated this statement with a sweet and lingering kiss against Jiang Cheng’s cheek. The clan leader slowly quieted in his arms. A demure glance his way told Zejun he should keep going. He desperately wanted to make up for the time Jiang Cheng had spent thinking he was unwanted. That was unacceptable. He kissed each area of Jiang Cheng’s face, the corner of his mouth, above and below his cheek bone, the corner of his eye and even his eyelid as Jiang Cheng closed them out of embarrassment. By the time he had finished, Jiang Cheng was leaning most of his weight against Zejun and trembling, seeming unsure about what to feel.

He bit his lip as another moment of anger surged. “I don’t want to do this in Lan Xichen’s back yard,” he grumbled.

Zejun was in no mood to listen to this adorable jealousy any longer. He heedlessly continued planting kisses down Jiang Cheng’s neck and around his ear. “Here, there’s only you and me. And I can’t wait to touch you anymore,” he added, momentarily sucking down on Jiang Cheng’s neck and causing his knees to buckle with a moan. Holding his clan leader tightly, he whispered, “You may have been dreaming about me for a few months. I’ve been dreaming about you ever since I started going into puberty. My love is all based on you. Are you ready to take responsibility for that?”

He ran his fingers through the back of Jiang Cheng’s hair, tilting his head back and biting down possessively on his neck. Jiang Cheng let out a sweet but masculine shout. “I’ve spent so long imagining the feel of your skin,” he said in a low voice against his neck. 

“You…!” Jiang Cheng gasped, but moments later let out a shuddering moan. 

Zejun helped him to the ground and let his hands roam freely over Jiang Cheng’s hard and mature body. He was delighted by the way, even he had been so aggressive last time, Jiang Cheng reacted so innocently to his touch, twitching and arching his back, even shifting his hips impatiently. He had barely managed to part his yi and place a few kisses on the bare skin of his chest when he felt himself start to salivate with desire and couldn’t hold back from having him fill his mouth. 

He quickly untied and pulled down his chang and without a word, swallowed his length as deep as he could. Jiang Cheng’s whole body tensed and he threw back his head against the straw floor mats. Over and over his low voice let out heavy gasps and panicked moans. Zejun felt his head spinning with excitement as he bobbed his head up and down, savoring the taste of Jiang Cheng’s heat inside his mouth. 

“Zejun…” Jiang Cheng gasped, bucking his hips and nearly choking Zejun, who was only too happy to feel his enthusiasm. “Ze…jun…”

The next moment, he was forced to remember that Jiang Cheng was older, taller, and probably noticeably stronger than he was, as his arms wrapped tightly around him, one hand twisting almost painfully in Zejun’s hair, and held him down while he began thrusting his hips inside his mouth. 

Zejun’s eyes fluttered as now and then he felt his airway constricted, but somehow this only excited him more. He almost came with just the first thrust of Jiang Cheng’s hips against his face. Once he got used to it, he reached his hands up to feel all the muscles of Jiang Cheng’s chest even as Jiang Cheng brutally held him down and used his mouth for his own pleasure. 

Jiang Cheng seemed to lose the power of speech as moans rolled out of him and his body jolted over and over with sensation. Finally he grasped Zejun’s head with both hands and tried to look down at his face as he pumped just a few more times down into his throat, and then let out a shout.

Zejun trembled as yet more heat filled his mouth. He couldn’t swallow with his throat still full, so he choked a little. He didn’t mind at all, but it took Jiang Cheng a moment to realize it was uncomfortable for him. 

Jiang Cheng pushed him back with shaking hands. He seemed to want to say something, but instead gave Zejun kisses against his cheek, while he wiped his mouth and swallowed the remainder of Jiang Cheng’s cum. 

“L-…let me do it too,” Jiang Cheng murmured.

Zejun’s heart felt so full at the reluctant request. But he lightly kissed Jiang Cheng’s cheek and said, “I finished when you started holding down my head. Who knew you could be so passionate, Clan Leader?”

“Y-…” Jiang Cheng began, and stopped himself with a blush, looking ashamed. 

“Come here,” Zejun said, opening his arms. 

Jiang Cheng briefly had an expression Zejun could only compare to that of a sad puppy, and immediately fit himself into the circle of Zejun’s arms as they both lay back against the mat. Zejun stroked his hair and gave him many kisses to reassure him over and over how loved he was. 

“Why don’t you stay here all day?” Zejun flirted softly. “Then I can spend all day convincing you of the wonders of being a cut-sleeve.”

“Shameless,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, although if Zejun didn’t know any better he might have said he looked quite happy. “I can’t stay after I already made a fuss about leaving.”

Zejun suddenly stopped stroking his hair. “Did…you hear the others walk away at any point? The last I saw they were standing quite close…”

An awkward cough through the courtyard. And the sound of several pairs of feet attempting to move quietly away. 

Jiang Chang and Fang Zejun both lay there in absolute silence for several seconds. Jiang Cheng curled up into a ball and buried his face in his hands. 

“C-…Clan Leader…it’s all right…I’m sure there were only four people who moved away just now, and probably at least Wei Wuxian didn’t-“

“Don’t speak to me!”

“…should I come up with some kind of story to tell them?”

“Don’t bother. I’ll just live here from now on. I never want to see the light of day when Wei Wuxian is still in it!”


	8. Silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Xichen is devastated by finding out Fang Zejun and Jiang Cheng's relationship. When he closes himself off in his room, a surprising visitor arrives to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter makes references to events in two other fics, Chapter 7 of my Xiyao fic, Jade in the Moonlight, and Chapter 3 of my set of one-shot fics, Secret World of Cultivation, which deal with Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao's relationship gradually breaking down.

“I’m…not…fucking Zewu Jun!!”

The voice of Fang Zejun echoed across the courtyard just as dawn was creeping across it. Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Lan Sizhui, and Lan Jingyi who had coincidentally just turned up, all stood open-mouthed and eventually exchanged helpless glances. Though all present were shocked, Zewu Jun at first didn’t comprehend. His lips parted and eyes widened as he saw the bright red face of Sizhui, the wide but delighted open mouth of Wei Wuxian, and his brother frowning hard with his eyes closed, seeming to be pretending he hadn’t heard.

Xichen’s breath came rapidly. His face felt hot and he was sick to his stomach. It wasn’t just embarrassing. It didn’t matter that it was a denial of any possibility of a sexual relationship. On top of everything else that had happened recently, on top of the humiliation of his love life being a public discussion, a deep sinking feeling struck him at Zejun’s forceful rejection of even the thought of him. Clapping a hand over his mouth, Lan Xichen turned and quickly left. 

Even though he felt sick to his stomach and his face was hot, his limbs felt gradually colder until he could hardly feel them. He stumbled slightly as he made his way into his sleeping chamber and closed the door behind him. He sank to the ground beside his bed. How had this gone so quickly so wrong?

He hadn’t even fully accepted the way he had been feeling toward Fang Zejun. He should have learned his lesson, giving so much of his heart to A-Yao. He should know better. True, he didn’t see any way Zejun could be as deceitful as that, but then he never expected that in anyone. His trusting nature was exactly why he was hurt so easily and often. But instead of being betrayed, this time he was simply…rejected. 

Had they been together from before? Or had Zejun been aware of Xichen’s feelings and chosen Jiang Cheng anyway? 

Xichen curled in on himself, worried if he thought any more he might actually throw up. This encounter with the ghost cultivator had made raw far too many scars he thought had already healed. Even as he tried to take proper posture to mediate and calm his mind, a tear slipped down his cheek. Was he the only person in the world who couldn’t be loved?

He remained in his chamber all day. Wangji and Sizhui each came to check on him separately, but he couldn’t respond to either. He dedicated his mind to seeking after emptiness, letting his swirling emotions run themselves out. But perhaps because of the attack last night, they didn’t seem to calm down at all.

Just as the sun was disappearing behind the mountains, a less familiar set of footsteps approached his door. The owner paused briefly in uncertainty, then knocked on the wooden portion of the door softly.

“Z-…Zewu Jun…”

Xichen’s eyes flicked open as a hesitant surge of happiness rose in his chest. The voice was Fang Zejun’s. Had he been jumping to conclusions? Were he and Jiang Cheng not together after all? Otherwise what was he doing here, alone?

“Fang Zejun…” he murmured quickly, even though he had been unable to respond either to his brother or adopted nephew. “What is it?”

“…I’m very sorry…to have made a commotion in the Cloud Recesses today…”

Xichen’s heart ached as he thought Zejun was also apologizing on Jiang Cheng’s behalf. The way Jiang Cheng treated him despite his loyalty, and the fact that Zejun clearly loved him anyway, sent a dark, noxious feeling spreading through the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t answer.

After a long pause waiting to hear from Xichen, Zejun let out a soft, regretful breath. “I…won’t disturb you any further. I was only worried that our actions might have upset you…but it’s not some illness or injury is it?”

In the ways that mattered, indeed it was. Xichen’s eyes stung and he lowered them from gazing at Zejun’s silhouette against the paper door to the floor. “Rather than concern yourself with me,” he murmured, unable to disguise the bitterness in his voice. “Your clan leader seems to need your attention. I fear another outburst coming your way if you give him further reason to be jealous.”

Xichen flushed with shame as soon as his own words had left his mouth. He never normally felt so high-handed or petty. Zejun would only be more disappointed with him.

After another small pause, Zejun sighed. “He has caused you much distress today, and I’m sure before now as well,” Zejun said softly against the door. “But, forgive me Clan Leader Lan, I must request that you please refrain from speaking disrespectfully of Clan Leader Jiang. Even if you dislike him, he is the best man I know, and the most important person to me.”

“Of course. I misspoke,” Xichen forced himself to say, though he felt tears of frustration straining at his eyes. Was it really disrespectful to describe the way Jiang Cheng really did treat Zejun, as his possession? Wasn’t it true? “Clan Leader Jiang is well worthy of your devotion to him,” he said, but couldn’t completely hide the disdain from his voice.

“…Zewu Jun,” Zejun murmured, with a note of concern. “May I come in?”

Xichen’s heart fluttered. “Why?” 

It took Zejun some time to form an answer. He leaned a hand against the door and Xichen traced the outline with his gaze. “…I don’t know,” he confessed softly. “But please let me in anyway.”

Xichen closed his eyes. He could never agree to this. As much as the only thing on his mind was scooping up this gentle creature and taking comfort from his warmth, there were too many impenetrable barriers between them. The first being Xichen’s sense of honor. Knowing how deeply Fang Zejun and Jiang Wanyin cared for one another, he had no right – even if he had had the ability – to stand between them.

“I can’t do that,” he said. “Please don’t worry yourself so much.”

“Zewu Jun,” Zejun cut him off as he was about to tell him to leave. “I…don’t deserve any close relationship with you…and I’m sorry for presuming we ever had one, if I’m wrong. But…your kindness has meant so much to me. If I were hated by you…I don’t even like to think-“

Xichen took in a shocked breath, about to contradict such a horrible thought, when a sharp voice cut off Zejun’s.

“Fang Zejun!”

A flare of an ugly emotion surged inside Lan Xichen’s chest at Jiang Wanyin’s harsh voice approaching his door to berate the kind creature who was only trying to comfort him. Up until now, the truth was that Xichen had held a lot of affection and pity toward the Jiang clan leader, but he felt he finally understood why the rift between him and Wei Wuxian had been able to persist so long. 

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng asked him suspiciously.

Zejun actually sighed. “Are you still worried about that, Clan Leader?”

“You-!” Jiang Cheng clenched his jaw in anger before he could finish, then started again, “We’ll talk about this later. I have business with Zewu Jun.”

A long pause passed between them.

“Get lost!” Jiang Cheng barked, at which Fang Zejun let out another sigh before his footsteps faded away. 

Xichen looked toward the floor and away from Jiang Cheng’s silhouette, trying to deal with the fact that, in addition to the jealousy, he also felt guilt toward Jiang Cheng. More importantly, what business could he have that he didn’t want Fang Zejun to overhear?

“Clan Leader Jiang,” Xichen said as soon as Zejun’s footsteps had faded, making an attempt to sound cordial. “I must apologize for being indisposed.”

“Nh,” Jiang Cheng grunted disinterestedly, meaning apparently that at least that wasn’t the reason he had come.

“…what can I do for you?” Xichen pressed, after a protracted silence.

“Zewu Jun,” Jiang Cheng answered after a moment. “Jin Guangshan’s funeral. Do you remember?” 

That was not a memory that Xichen needed hashing over again. The most painful moment in his brother’s life had precipitated one of his own. He still remembered the despair in his heart at the thought that Jin Guangyao had never loved him. The mask of politeness that he showed Xichen on the funeral that day was one of his worst memories. Indeed, the only reason he was able to go on living was learning at the end that, no matter what else had been a lie, his love at least had been real. 

His silence apparently gave Jiang Cheng all the answer that he needed. He went on more softly, “Yeah. You forgot I was there, didn’t you? A lot. When you were convalescing in Carp Tower. You proud of that moment?”

“No,” Xichen was forced to answer, trying to keep his voice steady but growing steadily more angry with Jiang Cheng. 

“Hmph. I shouldn’t think so. Caused a lot of people a lot of worrying over you. Even that iron-masked brother of yours. And that…Jin Guangyao…” Jiang Cheng paused at this, apparently caught up in thought.

Xichen was surprised that, unlike in the case of Wei Wuxian or Wen Qionglin, the name held little anger in Jiang Wanyin’s voice. He was also there during the massacre at the Yunmeng temple. He should be well aware of who was the mastermind of behind the worst of the Jiang clan’s tragedies. What was it…pity?

“Don’t get me wrong. He was a monster. If he were alive now, I’d kill him,” he added, seeming to be sensing what Xichen was thinking.

“…why bring him up at all?” Xichen finally asked, unable to bear hearing his name anymore.

Jiang Cheng seemed to struggle to find his words, shifting his feet uncomfortably as he leaned one shoulder against the screen door. “Well, you know. He may have been a monster. But I guess even monsters have a soft spot. His was you.”

Xichen’s eyes stung as a hollow cavity seemed to open up through the core of his body. He couldn’t take this anymore, and slowly got to his feet. “Please leave,” he said.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Sit down, I’m done. I didn’t come here about that.”

“Why then?”

“…to ask if you’re about to make the same mistake again.” As Xichen drew in a sharp breath as if struck, he could see Jiang Cheng’s face shift slightly toward him. He felt his eyes glaring even through the door. “…or if you already have.”

Xichen tried to steady his breath, but there was an odd burning sensation in his face and chest. It wasn’t true, he assured himself. He had nothing to feel guilty over. Jiang Wanyin was far outstepping his bounds even implying such a thing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Xichen protested instinctively.

“I mean letting your heart lead you astray. And letting your charms infect others…into sacrificing themselves for you.”

Xichen’s breath came raggedly. Deep in his heart, he had had such dreadful thoughts before. That somehow his love of Jin Guangyao had influenced that tragic creature into his own self-destruction, or at the very least that he had not loved him enough to save him. Through much meditation and deliberation, he had thought himself rid of them, thinking them harmful whether they were true or not. But with this handful of words, Jiang Wanyin had shattered every shred of Lan Xichen’s confidence. 

Xichen took in a shaking breath and gathered himself. No. It was not true. Even if it was, he could not let it affect him, or his whole clan would be in danger. “…you do me wrong to make such an accusation, Clan Leader Jiang,” Xichen murmured, softly so as to avoid revealing the emotion in his voice.

Jiang Cheng let out a soft scoff. “That so?”

“…yes.”

“So you think he feels nothing for you? Your little walks with him, a clan leader taking a special interest in a myrmidon and a teenager at that, you think that did nothing to influence the way he feels? What he thinks about you?”

Xichen’s chest felt squeezed and he couldn’t speak. Was it true? Again? Was he forcing his feelings on someone who already idolized him? Was he taking advantage of an innocent who didn’t know any better? While he was agonizing over every possibly incident of influencing Jin Guangyao’s or Fang Zejun’s feelings, something seemed to be taking place in the heart of Jiang Wanyin. 

“He…didn’t say so outright. But I know you mean a lot to him,” Jiang Cheng’s voice came, softly as if suddenly reluctant. “I can’t keep telling him to avoid you. Or that he’s wrong for being a cut-sleeve.”

Xichen almost lost his footing at hearing Jiang Cheng say these words out loud. In addition to the initial shock that Jiang Cheng would even speak of such things, and the subsequent despair at realizing that he clearly had such a relationship with Fang Zejun, there was a small flicker of some deeply pleasant emotion in Xichen’s chest at the sentiment. He knew full well that Jiang Cheng was extremely conservative-minded, in many ways even more so than his uncle. Yet he was able to overcome it. For someone he loved. Xichen’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he felt something almost like happiness, yet at the same time it nearly brought him to tears. 

“…you know…” Jiang Wanyin went on, in a low, embarrassed voice that Xichen barely caught. “…that if you were to make a move for him seriously, I’d stand no chance. I’m not wallowing,” he added quickly, his arrogance returned. “I’m a catch, and don’t you dare pity me. But…I’m no Jade of Lan either. So…I’d just as soon make sure he’s not tempted.”

Xichen couldn’t help a small smile, even though his heart was breaking, yet again. “I wouldn’t dare,” he assured him softly. Jiang Cheng seemed to think this over for a moment, but in the end was satisfied. He pushed off the door as if to leave, but Xichen stopped him. 

“Clan Leader Jiang…”

“Nh?”

“…please don’t tell him…”

Xichen closed his eyes in shame at how pathetic his voice sounded in that moment. He wasn’t even sure Jiang Cheng would understand him, but he was too embarrassed to explain himself. But fortunately it wasn’t necessary. 

Jiang Cheng let out another soft scoff. “What did I just get done telling you? I’d hardly tell him myself. Here, Zejun, look the prettier one wants you too! Which one would you pick? Please.”

An almost painful laugh surged up from Xichen’s belly and he clapped a hand over his mouth, blushing. “I’m sorry. But, I doubt Fang Zejun is the sort of person to compare people that way.”

“Oh, no?” Jiang Cheng demanded, and Xichen got a flash of his younger self, full of tyranny and indignation. “Then how about personality? Cultivation? Swordsmanship? Pretty, flowery, goddamn music? Or what else…calligraphy? Comportment? I could go on, Zewu Jun, but do you really need to rub it in, how much I lose to you in everything but speaking volume?”

Xichen was sure this wasn’t a joke and he wasn’t supposed to laugh, but it was almost painful trying to stop. 

“Are you laughing, you goddamn superhuman?”

Though he couldn’t possibly see him, Xichen hurriedly shook his head and covered his mouth, waving the other hand dismissively. “No. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for then?”

“I don’t know. Forgive me, Wanyin. I just…never realized you held such kind thoughts about me.” In all honesty, he had every intention of saying this in a polite, placating way, but since he couldn’t stop laughing, he realized it probably sounded like yet more jabs at the insecure Jiang clan leader. 

Jiang Cheng let out a heavy sigh. “Well good for you. At least Zejun didn’t get to hear you laughing at other people’s anxieties, heartless bastard. You’re fine now, right? Good,” he said immediately, without waiting for an answer, and was on his way. 

Xichen’s smile slowly faded, but some of the warmth of Jiang Wanyin’s rather clumsy attempts at cheering him up remained. And while just minutes before he had fully sympathized with Wei Wuxian for being at Jiang Cheng’s mercy, he had a moment of jealousy at those who had the great honor of being loved by him as well.


	9. Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The horror wreaked by the ghost cultivator is not yet finished, and Zewu Jun makes a heroic sacrifice on behalf of Jiang Cheng.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: The poem is “Singing my Cares (14:XVIII)” by Ruan Ji (210–263 CE), translation by Wendy Swartz.  
> Note 2: For anyone who's curious, the ghost cultivator’s name is Xiasu 遐俗 (“abandoning the profane”) Sanren 散人 (“sage”).

Zejun had no way of knowing what Clan Leader Jiang wanted to talk to Zewu Jun about, but assumed it was none of his business and didn’t think much about it. He was far too happy with the memory of Jiang Cheng crying and accepting him, and replayed that moment in his mind at every dull juncture. Sadly the dreamy early morning of the next day was interrupted by a Lan disciple knocking on the door of his guest room.

“Master Fang?”

He jolted awake with his heart pounding as was a habit from when he was young. It took him a moment to orient to his surroundings and then he sighed heavily.

“Master Fang?”

“Ah…yes?” he answer dully.

“Zewu Jun requests you, to the cell of the ghost cultivator for spiritual music.”

Only then did the events of earlier the previous evening start to come back to him. He swallowed as he recalled the huge, cold hand enclosing around his throat before the Zidian snapped it away. Nothing would make him want to willingly put his hand in that bear trap again. Then again, if it was a request from Zewu Jun he didn’t exactly have the option of saying, “no.”

“Oh…okay. I’m coming, I’m coming.”

He hurriedly dressed and tried to make some presentable state to his hair, but if he didn’t wash it often it had a tendency to curl. At the moment, even with the top half swept back, he was approaching yak levels of unkemptness. But he controlled his ego and followed the young disciple to the meditation cells. 

When he arrived, also standing outside the holding cell with the morning rays cutting pleasantly through the remains of the night’s dew, were both Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng, and sitting on a large stone nearby, Hanguang Jun had his guqin across his lap. Zejun shifted his jaw to try to hold back his nerves, as he still wasn’t comfortable singing in front of Jiang Cheng. Why was he even here? Surely Zewu Jun wasn’t needed either…? But Hanguang Jun met his eyes with a questioning glance, his fingers poised over his guqin.

Zejun took a breath to steady his nerves because Hanguang Jun was almost as intimidating as his elder brother. But he nodded. Hanguang Jun’s long and elegant fingers strummed the first chord, and he raised his voice to match it.

“The hanging coach is in the southwest,  
Xihe will soon sink down.  
Its flowing rays illuminated the sea-girt world,  
then abruptly it comes to evening darkness.  
At dawn it glowed in Xian Pool,  
now Meng Shore receives its splendor.  
How can it know of gentlemen, whether in straits or success,  
that once they die, they will never live again?  
Look on the blossoms of peach and plum,  
who can stay so brilliant for long?”

From the time they arrived this morning, the ghost cultivator had been as they left her, lying back on the small cot in the corner of the room, hands folded over her stomach. As he sang, at first Zejun thought there was no reaction, but as he looked closer he took in a breath a little too quickly to see her eyes were open and staring straight up at the ceiling.

As soon as he stopped, she swung her feet down to the ground and sat up, at which all present recoiled a little. She stared at the wall in front of her as if they were not there. “Enough,” she said, in that low, androgynous voice. “This charade is over. Kill me.”

Zejun felt instantly cold down to his bones, afraid once again that his voice had done more harm than good. As he took a step back in uncertainty, he felt a swell of relief as Lan Xichen stepped out in front of him to face the specter. 

“I’m afraid killing is forbidden inside the Cloud Recesses,” he said gently. Yet in the corner of his eye, Zejun was sure that for a moment he saw something akin to despair. He wondered about why Zewu Jun had been unable to fight her the previous night.

“Make an exception,” said the ghost cultivator harshly. 

Zewu Jun offered a reluctant smile, and merely shook his head.

“If not, I’ll kill you instead.”

Zejun swallowed, glancing worriedly at Zewu Jun, fearful for him. He had rarely met another human being who was so detached and yet full of fury as this phantom in the cage. Once again he felt a throb of guilt that he had been unable to quell the whirlwind of negative emotions which seemed to be trying to crawl its way out of her cell.

Zewu Jun closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out to order his thoughts. “It would be very difficult to oblige you in that. All other concerns aside, we would not even know how to address your headstone.”

The elegant but frightening cultivator slowly closed her eyes, seeming to stemming off anger. Very slowly, supplying each syllable with vengeful distinction, she relented.

“Xia…su…San…ren.”

Zewu Jun clasped his hands before him. “Master Xiasu.” He bowed. Xiasu didn’t even blink.

Zejun was unsure what to do, until he saw Hanguang Jun stand up and copy the motion, so he awkwardly did so as well. He was not surprised when he looked back behind him to see Jiang Cheng standing with his arms folded and an utterly disdainful expression on his face, as if the whole thing were a farce.

“Thank you for trusting me with your name. But I am sorry to tell you that we can neither kill you nor set you free,” said Zewu Jun softly, and seemingly with genuine regret. “At least…not as you are.”

A moment of rage seemed to flicker in Xiasu Sanren’s eyes, which had fixed on Xichen though her head was still facing away. But slowly, her gaze lowered to the floor of her cell. Life seemed to leave it. Zejun had seen that expression before. It was the look one saw in the eyes of old horses, who had learned well that they would never escape their bonds until they breathed their last. Despite everything she had done, he had a moment of shocking pity for her. 

“But we will do all we can for you. Is there anything you require, which might ease the trauma you are experiencing now?”

A few moments of silence passed, in which the despair remained etched on the ghostly cultivator’s eyes. Then she blinked and raised her gaze a little. “Where is she now?”

Zewu Jun showed a rare moment of guardedness. He seemed hesitant to answer at first. “…do you mean Canse Sanren? Or Wei Wuxian?”

But Xiasu Sanren just nodded, purposefully misunderstanding. “Yes.”

Xichen sighed. “I do not think it wise for you to meet.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Him. And I would much rather you didn’t.”

Xiasu swept to her feet, taking two steps forward and towering over even Zewu Jun, making it clear through her expression that she had no qualms about using all her strength to destroy this entire cell between them if necessary. 

“I’ll speak with no one else,” she said at a volume intended only for Xichen, which Zejun could barely hear. 

Zewu Jun closed his eyes regretfully. “Then…I will consider your request. In the meantime, please allow these two to play music for you, and I would ask you to attempt no harm on them.”

Xiasu’s eyes closed in irritation and she turned away, returning to lie back on the cot as before. Though Zejun by now thought it a very bad idea to remain anywhere in her vicinity, Hanguang Jun once again took a seat with his guqin resting over his knees, and caught Zejun’s eye as if curious why he wasn’t singing already.

A hand clapped Zejun on the shoulder from behind. As he walked past him, Jiang Cheng said casually, “Sing good.”

Then he left together with Lan Xichen. Zejun made a face in frustration, but suddenly became conscious of the fact that the ghost cultivator’s eyes were still wide open as she lay on the cot, and Hanguang Jun was starting to look annoyed. He swallowed and nodded to indicate he was ready, and they began their concert for the very unwilling.

…

After several days passed in this way, nothing seemed likely to change about Xiasu Sanren’s condition. Zejun was surprised that Jiang Cheng elected to stay in the Cloud Recesses while the healing process went on. He still seemed suspicious of Lan Xichen. Though it did hurt somewhat that it reflected mistrust in Zejun as well, it was also rather adorable.

One morning, Zejun arrived a little early to do his singing. Hanguang Jun had not yet arrived. However, as he rounded the corner he did see a dark-robed figure chatting merrily with the occupant of the cell. Zejun stopped just out of sight, curiously observing Wei Wuxian as he listened intently to what Xiasu Sanren had to say and occasionally laughed delightedly. 

Just then, Hanguang Jun appeared behind him with guqin slung over his shoulder. “Wei Ying. Xiong-zhang said no,” he said firmly.

Wei Wuxian sighed. “Okay, okay, I’m going. You didn’t see me.”

Wei Wuxian flitted off somewhere and Fang Zejun cast a troubled gaze at the ground. Zewu Jun was so insistent on this point, that Xiasu Sanren and Wei Wuxian should not be allowed to meet, he should probably know about this. But he should give Hanguang Jun a chance to tell him first. 

That day passed with no sign that he had done so. And so did the next. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly party to most of the tactical discussions that took place in the Cloud Recesses, so he might not know. But the next day, testing his theory, he arrived early again.

Once again, Wei Wuxian was sitting on a rock across from the ghost cultivator’s cell, his legs crossed like a child. But this time he was not laughing. He was listening with a distantly sad expression. Zejun could see Xiasu Sanren’s ghostly fingers clinging to the bars, and could just catch her low and baleful voice. But out of loyalty toward Zewu Jun for helping him, he had no interest in whatever she might be saying.

He came to stand beside the cell, facing Wei Wuxian. “Master Wei,” he said. 

Wei Wuxian blinked up at him as if he hadn’t noticed his approach. “Oh dear. I’ve been found out,” he said, playfully tilting his head. He jumped down to his feet and set his elbow jauntily on Zejun’s shoulder. “So listen, hear me out, Zejun. You know what it’s like. Not knowing your parents,” he added more softly, in an uncharacteristically serious tone. “And in walks a gift with knowledge you never had before, wrapped up all pretty for you. Can you blame me?”

He tried to smile politely but could feel that most of his face didn’t move. “I’m sure Zewu Jun will understand too.”

“Traitor!” Wei Wuxian accused, his earlier plying apparently ended. “Maybe I’ll tell Jiang Cheng about your little walks with Zewu Jun, then. How about that?”

Zejun closed his eyes tiredly. “He knows, Master Wei.”

“Oh yeah? Even about the time he kind of groped you?”

“He-!” Zejun took a breath to gather himself, though he felt his cheeks growing hot. “I hardly think a touch on the cheek counts as ‘groping.’”

“Hnnn,” said Wei Wuxian, rocking back on his heels and smirking devilishly. “Wonder if Jiang Cheng will think so.”

Zejun couldn’t help a slight nervous swallow but he held his ground. “I don’t intend to keep secrets from him.”

Wei Wuxian frowned, apparently done negotiating. “Maybe I’ll just tell him about the time he kissed you then!”

“He never did!” Zejun snapped back.

The precocious demon cultivator shrugged. “Fine. Jiang Cheng’s so reasonable, I’m sure he’ll believe you,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

Zejun actually physically grabbed the sides of his head as he realized Wei Wuxian was right; it didn’t need to be true. Jiang Cheng was so quick to anger and already jealous (both things Zejun actually liked about him), the tiniest accusation could send him spiraling into a cycle of rage. 

“Okay…okay. Let’s talk,” Zejun said placatingly. 

“Nothing to talk about!” Wei Wuxian proclaimed victoriously. He slung an arm around Zejun’s shoulders and whispered to him, “If you don’t have a problem, I don’t have a problem. And then you don’t have a problem. And nobody needs to go telling the hothead or Uncle Virgin. Okay?”

“W-…”

“Bye, Zejun!”

Zejun clenched his fists at his sides and thought yet again that he would never be able to get along with Wei Wuxian. But now he had a serious problem of whether his gratitude toward Zewu Jun was worth what would most likely become a large fight with Jiang Cheng. 

He was still pondering over this the next day. He eventually came to the conclusion that he could at least observe Wei Wuxian and make sure nothing untoward took place, so he came early yet again. He was surprised to see not black robes, but glimmering white and icy blue as he came around the corner. Assuming it was Hanguang Jun, he almost called out before he caught sight of the deeply concerned face of Zewu Jun. 

The Lan clan leader was silently facing Xiasu Sanren, the air between them incredibly tense. But no words were exchanged between them that Zejun could hear. Finally, Lan Xichen merely shook his head. 

BANG!

The entire cell shuddered as it seemed Xiasu Sanren had slammed the flat of her hand against one of the walls. Zewu Jun only closed his eyes and barely flinched, even as Fang Zejun thought his heart was going to jump out of his throat. As the sound faded, the cell still stood just as it was, without damage. And Zewu Jun turned and left without a word.

Zejun never found out what this exchange was about. He tried broaching the subject with Hanguang Jun, but got nervous at the last minute that if Wei Wuxian thought he was still prying he might say all sorts of things to Jiang Cheng. And so the strangely tense days continued. Until one night, when all hell broke loose.

...

Zejun was getting ready for bed when he heard a huge explosion outside. His heart hammered in his ears, as he was certain it was Xiasu Sanren finally breaking out of her cell. Moments later Lan Wangji’s voice rang out in panic.

“Wei Ying!”

Zejun grabbed his sword, slammed open his door just in time to see the ghostly apparition sailing out into the hills behind the Cloud Recesses, a dark, struggling figure tucked under her arm. Closely following was Lan Wangji.

“Wangji!” Zewu Jun cried as he too emerged from his rooms. 

Jiang Cheng emerged too and grasped Zewu Jun’s shoulder. “She’s heading back for the river. We should follow on foot to save our strength.”

After a moment of worried hesitation, Lan Xichen nodded. Jiang Cheng caught Fang Zejun’s eye and tossed his head toward the river. Zejun nodded and followed after the two clan leaders.

Now knowing what they were facing, this run through the forest was even more frightening than the last one. Not to mention the other two ran so fast and fearlessly that in moments Zejun had almost lost sight of them. He definitely ended up getting snagged by more brambles in an attempt to keep up.

When they finally managed to find them, Hanguang Jun had backed the ghost cultivator up to the edge of a waterfall, where they both hesitated. Neither of them wanted to lose Wei Wuxian, but neither wanted to let the other have him either. 

“Zejun,” said Lan Xichen under his breath.

Zejun nervously nodded, though he was starting to have real doubts about his voice being able to do anything at all. He began to sing a sweet and peaceful tune that reminded him of Jiang Cheng.

Xiasu Sanren flicked her eyes toward him in annoyance. “How many times…?” she muttered bitterly. “Stop trying to heal an empty vessel.”

She darted past Hanguang Jun and raised her sword toward Zejun. The Zidian snapped through the air, caught her blade and yanked it away. In the small moment of distraction, Hanguang Jun struck her arm and collected Wei Wuxian into his arms as he fell. 

“No!” she cried, reaching out for them, but again the Zidian caught her foot and she crumpled to the ground. Shoulders trembling with rage, her white head slowly rose to fix on Jiang Cheng. “Jiang…sect…” she whispered, her eyes turning red with fury. “You won’t take her again…you won’t take her again!”

She dashed toward Jiang Cheng. Zejun’s heart flew into his throat and he stopped singing to run, despite his fear, to get in the way. But someone else was faster.

In a flutter of ice blue, Zewu Jun darted between them and grasped both the ghost cultivator’s hands by the wrists. Her rage slowly turned onto him.

“Lan…Xichen…” she said, as if in accusation. “You wish to feel my suffering? Is your little heart strong enough…not to break?”

Even though Zewu Jun was well known for being ludicrously strong, she struggled against his grasp and managed to place a hand on top of his head. Zewu Jun’s eyes went wide. And then they went blank. His breath stopped.

“Zewu Jun!” Zejun cried.

Hanguang Jun looked panicked, but he seemed hesitant to leave Wei Wuxian’s side. 

With her hand still tightly grasped over his head, Zewu Jun sank to his knees. But then she released him. His head fell back and he stared blankly up at the starry sky. To the relief of all present, he took in a breath. But quickly horror swept across his face. And then, the scream.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!”


	10. Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen fall off a waterfall and nearly drown, while Jiang Cheng helps Xichen recover from a nightmarish experience.

The noise that Lan Xichen made was unlike anything that Jiang Cheng had heard from another living thing. It was primal. Agonizing even to hear. He could have sworn the force of it must have torn Xichen’s vocal chords. The worst part was that just moments before she attacked him, Zewu Jun had stepped in the way of the pale, skeletal hands reaching for Jiang Cheng. It should have been him.

After his scream, Xichen’s eyes, though streaming tears down his face, drew closed. His long body crumpled to the ground like wet paper. Jiang Cheng caught him before his head hit the ground. 

Suddenly, he felt a large pair of hands grab him by the back of his clothes and Xichen by the hair. He felt his whole weight lifted from the ground. The next thing he knew, he was hurtling through the cold darkness of the night, the moon quickly obscured by water, as he and Xichen fell off the edge of the waterfall, the ghost cultivator watching them with cold satisfaction as she lowered her hands.

He heard Zejun scream his name.

He had only a moment to think as they fell, and as soon as he realized they were about to impact the water below. He reached out and grabbed hold of Xichen’s belt as tightly as he could. He took a painfully quick breath.

WHAM!

His senses were rattled, his backside aching where he had hit, and now he was submerged in icy water. As soon as he could, he struggled to reach the surface and take a breath. He panicked as he realized he had lost his grip on Xichen, but quickly spotted him half submerged nearby. He turned him over and tried to make sure he was breathing. It hurt even to try, even if his senses had been reliable, and he could barely feel his hands. 

The next moment, he noticed the current had taken them. He tried to push Xichen closer to the bank, but every foot he pushed, they were swept another five feet further downstream. Soon, it too fast to fight. With no other option, he wrapped both arms tightly around Xichen to keep his head above water, as he still appeared unconscious. And then began the most terrifying two minutes of his life.

Jiang Cheng was an excellent swimmer, but he was unused to the cold waters of Gusu. Every attempt to draw breath was terrifying agony, as half the time he choked on the frigid water. His head was repeatedly submerged and the current seemed to hold him down, but he did his best to keep Xichen above him. It was so dark, at night and under the tree cover. He could hardly tell up from down. Finally, he felt his foot catch on a rock. 

He used the momentary stability to grab the heavy and soaking wet Lan clan leader with all his strength and throw him bodily onto what he hoped was the bank. That done, he grasped Sandu’s hilt and dragged himself alongside. 

Though battered, exhausted and shaking, he grabbed Xichen under his arms and dragged him away from the water. He was ice cold, but then so were Jiang Cheng’s hands, so he told himself not to panic. He lay the soaked clan leader on his side and slapped his back hard. 

Xichen choked up a lungful of water and he heard him take in a deep and reassuring breath, but he didn’t wake. Jiang Cheng crumpled to the ground beside him and rested his elbows on his knees. He looked around him, trying to take stock and figure out what to do. 

He had never thought this before, but a forest at night, alone, could be quite a frightening thing. The fact that both he and Lan Xichen were highly advanced cultivators didn’t seem to ease the instinctive dread, which was probably a survival instinct in humans since the dawn of time. They couldn’t stay out here, exposed. It was too cold, and even in the peaceful Gusu there were plenty of demons who would be happy to prey on them. Though he was aching down to his bones, Jiang Cheng laboriously pulled the heavy Xichen onto his back, and tried to find some shelter. 

He settled on a fallen log, which had created a slight cavity in the ground and already had a convenient covering of evergreen branches. Both to warm them and act as a signal to any of the Lan disciples who might be looking for them, he built a fire just outside the cavity. He pulled off the outer layer of both his and Xichen’s clothes, hanging them to dry on branches above them, and was starting to become worried about the fact that Xichen wasn’t waking up. 

He could still barely feel his own fingers from the cold. Though he would never normally stoop to such desperate measures, he realized the best thing for both of them was to warm up each other with body heat. He pulled Xichen up to a sitting position, pulled his back against his chest and wrapped his arms around him, where he sat shivering. 

While they sat this way, he checked Xichen’s qi. A wave of physical pain struck him and suddenly he felt deeply sad. He broke the connection quickly as he started to understand what had been done to him. He clenched his jaw and silently cursed Xiasu Sanren. Unable to think of anything else to do to help, he began a transfer of spiritual power in an attempt to ease some of his pain.

Moments after he began it, Xichen took in a deep and shaking breath. His body shook from head to toe as he looked around him in increasing panic. “A-…A-yao…?” he whimpered, in a voice that broke Jiang Cheng’s heart.

Instinctively, Jiang Cheng held him tighter. “No…” he said reluctantly. “Zewu Jun…it’s Jiang Wanyin. Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?”

Though he could only just see his profile from this angle, Jiang Cheng watched as a silvery tear slipped down Lan Xichen’s porcelain cheek. “Oh no…” Xichen whispered. Agony rippled over his face. “No…no…why…?”

“Zewu Jun…” Xichen didn’t seem to hear him, mumbling to himself in a pained whisper, seeming to be slipping away. “Lan Xichen!” Jiang Cheng said more insistently, and Xichen flinched. “Breathe. Just take a deep breath. Can you feel my breath? Try to follow it. Breathe in.”

Jiang Cheng placed a firm hand against Xichen’s chest to ground him and make it easier to feel the air flowing into Jiang Cheng’s lungs against his back. Helplessly, even as he sobbed and trembled, Xichen managed to pull in a shaking breath, and then let it out as Jiang Cheng did. He kept this up for some time, until some of Xichen’s trembling had subsided. 

As Jin Ling had suffered a few nervous episodes when he was young, Jiang Cheng knew a few tricks to calm someone down. He lifted a hand where Xichen could see and one by one, touched his thumb against each of his fingers. 

“Can you do that?” he asked him softly.

Xichen hesitantly raised a hand and tried to copy his movements. 

“Water,” Jiang Cheng said, tapping his index finger. “Wood.” He tapped his middle finger. “Fire.” His ring finger. “Earth.” His pinky. He repeated the words, tapping each of his fingers in turn. “Say it.”

“W-water…wood…fire…earth…” Xichen whispered, copying him.

“Keep thinking of strong memories you have of each element until you remember where they all sit in your body,” Jiang Cheng said, softening his voice even further.

He thought he heard Xichen sob a little, but he repeated the words softly to himself as he tapped each of his fingers in turn. Gradually, the shivering in his body all but subsided. His breathing grew more regular. But the last time he did the mantra, he lowered his hand and sobbed again. 

Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but hold him tighter to reassure him, not quite able to imagine what a man so normally controlled and serene must be feeling in this moment. “What did she show you?” he asked him, hoping that sharing the experience might make him feel less afraid.

Xichen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but by the time he let it out, his expression looked a little more like his normal self. “I…don’t know how. She…gave me…memories I never had. I watched him die…over and over…it was my fault…”

“…Jin Guangyao?” Jiang Cheng guessed, disheartened.

Xichen wiped the tears from his face with a shaking hand, seeming to be using all his strength not to break down again. “…not every time. Sometimes I saw Zejun’s face…and he died too…they died for nothing…I failed them! Over and over…over and over…”

He nervously kept wiping his damp sleeve over his face, doing nothing to stop the tears themselves and probably only making him colder. Even at the revelation that Xichen had definitely been thinking of Zejun the same way he thought of Jin Guangyao, seeing him like this, it was hard even for Jiang Cheng to feel any ill will toward him. 

He squeezed him reassuringly. “It didn’t happen. Zejun’s fine. He’ll probably find us soon.”

Xichen nodded, appearing quite relieved to be told that out loud. 

“I should probably go check down by the water-“

“Please don’t,” Xichen whispered. His trembling fingers grasped Jiang Cheng’s sleeve and wouldn’t let go.

The core of Jiang Cheng’s chest ached painfully at how pitiful Xichen was in that moment. Though this was something he would never acknowledge about himself, feeling superior made it a lot easier for Jiang Cheng to feel sympathy for people. He nodded against Xichen’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry…Wanyin…” Xichen murmured, sniffing and rubbing his eyes again. 

“Really?” Jiang Cheng sighed, though even more warm and tender feelings were arising in his heart by each passing moment. “Not sure what you have to be sorry for exactly. Except that martyr complex all you Lan sect seem to have.”

Xichen turned his face slightly toward Jiang Cheng in confusion. 

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at him. “You forgot how you got in this mess? You stepped in before she got to me.”

“Oh…” Xichen’s expression was hard to read, but he seemed somewhat surprised to realize that he himself had indeed done that.

“Probably wouldn’t have hurt me as much as you either. I don’t fall for people as hard as you do.”

“Oh…”

Jiang Cheng sighed. “You may be cuter like this, but you’re not very good conversation,” he admitted, but he missed the slight blush blooming over Xichen’s cold cheeks. “You could contradict me, you know. Say you didn’t do it for me.”

“But I did do it for you,” Xichen murmured off-handedly.

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks grew uncomfortably hot. He was suddenly felt very embarrassed to have his chest pressed up against Zewu Jun’s back. He was certain his heartbeat was noticeably loud. “What…? I was joking. Of course you didn’t. Even if you forget Zejun, your brother was there too. Plenty of people higher up on the list to save than me.”

“But they were safe, and you were in danger.”

Jiang Cheng growled irritably. “Yes, but I’m also perfectly capable of defending myself.”

“…yes…”

He shifted his jaw uncomfortably, feeling quite awkward about holding Zewu Jun so closely. “…did you really do it for me?”

Xichen nodded, though by now he was starting to look embarrassed at having to explain the meaning behind his actions. 

“Don’t just agree like it’s nothing! I mean…why?”

Xichen looked down at his hands, seeming uncertain. “I…I knew if she hurt you…it would break my heart.”

Heat flooded Jiang Cheng’s whole body and he didn’t feel cold at all anymore. His mouth opened and closed several times as he struggled to respond. “You…!” he managed, but then his embarrassment took over and he could barely speak. He couldn’t even hide his face with both arms still wrapped around Lan Xichen’s body. “…I swear, the both of you.”

“Both?”

“You and Zejun,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Of course his vice is having a range as broad as humanity. Yours is falling in love with every sick puppy who crosses your path. Get that under control.”

Xichen’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as he folded his hands in slight embarrassment. “It’s not…every one.”

Jiang Cheng’s heart was really far too loud, he thought. Xichen must be able to feel how loud it was, not to mention the heat radiating off Jiang Cheng’s body. “…isn’t it?”

Xichen shook his head meekly.

“Who then?”

“Two…maybe three people.”

“At once?!” Jiang Cheng demanded, scandalized.

Xichen shook his head and quietly answered, “In my life.”

And just like that, he had effortlessly wedged his own existence deep in Jiang Cheng’s heart. The difference between his behavior now and his usual, controlled and perfect self, and his innocence and inexperience, were combining to make him seem incredibly dear. Jiang Cheng didn’t notice as his arms crept a little more firmly around him. 

“Well…I’m about the same I guess.”

“All at once?”

“No, not at all once!” Jiang Cheng snapped irritably. But as he relaxed his body against the larger one he was holding, he was conscious of the sandalwood-like fragrance that seemed to emanate from Lan Xichen’s skin and hair, even damp as they were. He felt his eyes close a little, almost as if he could comfortably fall asleep just like this. 

“Maybe…two…at once,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, though feeling his face light up once again.

Xichen took in a small breath. Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt Xichen’s long and delicate fingers tighten slightly over his arm. “Me too,” he said softly.

Jiang Cheng’s stomach flipped in a strange kind of delight at hearing this barely audible admission. He took a few deep breaths to try to slow his heartbeat, but remained conscious of Xichen’s warmth in the circle of his arms. It felt amazing to be able to protect someone, to make them feel safe. And he’d never thought in a million years that Lan Xichen might ever look his way. But that was very much what this sounded like. Still, even if he could look Fang Zejun in the eye tomorrow, he could not bear the shame if he tried his luck and found he was wrong. 

“You…should get some rest, if you can,” he barely managed. “You’re still shaking a little.”

Xichen was silent for a moment, staring down at the forest floor in front of him. Then, in a move that nearly broke Jiang Cheng’s heart with sweetness, he hesitantly shifted in his arms until he was curled up against him, his head resting in the hollow of Jiang Cheng’s neck. His fingers grasped the slightly damp fabric over Jiang Cheng’s chest as if for security.

“You won’t leave?” he pleaded softly.

“…I won’t,” Jiang Cheng replied, as soon as his senses returned to him. Surely Xichen must be aware of his heartbeat now. It felt ridiculously loud in Jiang Cheng’s ears. 

But whether he was or not, soon it seemed as if he really did fall asleep. Rather worryingly, he stayed that way even as voices started to sound of rescuers from the Lan clan looking for them through the dark forest. 

“Here! Over here!” Jiang Cheng cried at a controlled volume, wanting to call them over of course but also not willing to disturb the sleeping Lan Xichen any more than he had to. “Hey, Lan sect! Over here!”

Xichen stirred a little, but the moment he awoke he appeared to start trembling again. Jiang Cheng helped him to stand as one of the disciples spotted them and headed over. 

“Zewu Jun!” they called.

There was a rustle of leaves behind the disciple and someone shouting, “Is Clan Leader Jiang with him?!” Of course, it was Zejun. He didn’t even wait until the disciple had answered his question before charging through some undergrowth and running toward them.

“Clan Leader!” he cried. And as he got closer, he inhaled in shock to see the state of Lan Xichen, who wasn’t even able to stand on his own. “Zewu Jun…” He looked Jiang Cheng up and down and seemed to decide he wasn’t hurt. “Clan Leader, I’ll take him. Here, Wang Huan, help me.”

Zejun slid under Xichen’s arm and took his weight with one arm around his waist. The other nearby disciple, Wang Huan apparently, moved over to help, but Xichen released Jiang Cheng and clung to Zejun. “Zejun…” he whispered. “…I’m glad you’re all right.”

For an instant, as he saw Zejun’s face in profile while Xichen hugged him, Jiang Cheng thought he saw a very tender expression there. Zejun’s hand gently stroked Xichen’s back reassuringly. But an instant later, as if this tender moment had never happened, he exchanged a worried frown with Jiang Cheng. 

“I’ll help you but you’re a lot taller, Zewu Jun. Let me know if you feel like you’re going to fall,” Zejun told him, helping Xichen to move away, while Wang Huan followed closely, ready to steady him. 

There were other disciples coming their way, but most stopped to check on Xichen before even glancing Jiang Cheng’s way. And just like that, the oddly pleasant moment was over. And Jiang Cheng was alone. As, it seemed, he always was. He gathered his and Xichen’s clothes, and curtly refused when offered help on the way back to the Cloud Recesses.


	11. Blue Gossamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiang Cheng comes to the conclusion that his presence is preventing Fang Zejun and Lan Xichen from being happy together, and he prepares to make a noble sacrifice for them.

Although he wanted to know what had happened with Xiasu Sanren, when they returned to the Cloud Recesses, Jiang Cheng went directly to his guest room and sat down on a stool, utterly drained. He had been sitting this way for several minutes when he realized he still had Lan Xichen’s and his own robes still bunched in his hands. 

He examined the damp garments. Like everything else about him, Zewu Jun’s robes were of the finest quality, elegant, refined and subtle, in his characteristic ice blue. Even the dunking in cold river water left them little the worse for the wear. He ran his fingers over the silk and gossamer, but could not rid himself of the bitter emotions he had cultivated in the last couple of hours.

He was now sure of Lan Xichen’s feelings for Fang Zejun. And there was no doubt in his mind that if given a choice between the two, Zejun would not choose Jiang Cheng. Or maybe he had been dallying with Zewu Jun all this time, as he suspected. He didn’t even blame him for that; he probably would too. Only for making him think otherwise. For that, he could never forgive him.

“Clan Leader Jiang?” it was Zejun’s voice, coming from outside his door. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he hadn’t even heard anyone approach.

At first, Jiang Cheng didn’t answer. His insides felt cold, even more so than his skin with damp fabric still clinging to it. He didn’t want to see Fang Zejun’s face.

“Clan Leader?” Zejun’s voice was more nervous. “Are you all right? May I come in?”

“What is it?” Jiang Cheng barked out, lest Zejun barge in here out of worry. 

“…Lan Qiren and Hanguang Jun want to see you.”

Jiang Cheng nodded to himself, having expected that, but still finding it difficult to will himself to get up. 

“And…also your nephew is here.”

“What? Jin Ling?!” Jiang Cheng demanded.

He could feel Zejun’s hesitation even though he could barely see his shadow against the door. “Yes…it was partly thanks to the junior cultivators…and Wen Qionglin…that Xiasu Sanren was recaptured.”

Jiang Cheng lowered his head with a heavy sigh. He still hadn’t seen his nephew since the last horrendous fight they had had. Just what he needed, he thought, another emotional mess.

“…should I tell them you’re not feeling well?” came Zejun’s soft voice from beyond the door.

Jiang Cheng’s fingers tightened over his and Lan Xichen’s robes, in the process stretching the purple fabric while the blue remained unharmed. Even Zejun’s concern was painful at this moment. Whether from exhaustion or frustration, dark thoughts arose in him. About how to take revenge for having his feelings toyed with.

“I need to get changed,” he said coldly. 

“All right,” said Zejun, at first taking this as a perfectly normal explanation. “Then you’ll want to bathe too. I’ll have some hot water brought in.”

“No need,” Jiang Cheng said, finally dropping the garments on the ground and pushing them away with his foot. “You’re still my myrmidon aren’t you? Come in here and do your job.”

He heard Zejun take in a slight breath of surprise. But loyal as he was, Jiang Cheng knew he wouldn’t refuse. He saw his shadow nod slightly. “Then…excuse me,” he said, pulling the door open and then closed behind him as he entered. 

He looked Jiang Cheng up and down worriedly as he sat on the stool in the dark, crumpled robes nearby him. Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite handle the pity on his face in spite of his own cruelty toward him, and quickly got to his feet, coming to stand in front of a concerned-looking Zejun. 

“Undress me.”

Concern grew in Zejun’s eyes. But he obeyed, one by one removing each damp item of Jiang Cheng’s clothing, laying each one over his arm to avoid sullying the straw mats of the floor. He showed no reaction to Jiang Cheng’s nakedness, and when he had finished, stood waiting for further instructions. 

“My hair too.”

Zejun nodded, setting the clothes on a rack to dry. He returned and reached up to unpin Jiang Cheng’s diadem and allow his hair to fall loosely. Without being asked, he tried to remove as many tangles as possible before smoothing it back again and replacing the diadem.

“I can feel river silt everywhere. Get a wet cloth.”

Zejun grabbed a clean, white cloth from the linen cabinet, and quickly disappeared outside to the nearest well. He returned with one end of the cloth soaked in water. Once again without Jiang Cheng asking him outright, he ran the cloth over every inch of Jiang Cheng’s body from head to toe. Though Jiang Cheng had fully intended this to be a cruel and humiliating experience for him, Zejun’s touch was soothing and gentle, and against his will it pulled some of the poison out of his heart. 

Much of his rage had quelled by the time Zejun finished, softly massaging each of his feet in turn as he brushed away traces of the river from them. When he stood before him again, waiting for the next command, Jiang Cheng gazed thoughtfully at his hands, which he noticed were scratched all over by brambles. The next breath he let out took the remainder of his anger with it, leaving only a feeling of loss and inferiority.

In spite of this, perhaps by the very nature of their object, there remained a pure and sweet emotion inside him when in Zejun’s presence. He curled one hand under Zejun’s, causing him to intake a sudden breath, and examined the scratches on his hand. 

Zejun opened his mouth to explain, but Jiang Cheng used his other hand to grasp the back of his neck and pull him closer. He had been holding back the urge to kiss him, to reaffirm who he in fact belonged to, ever since he came in. But at the last moment, he lost his nerve. He let his love for Zejun pool warmly in the center of his body, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, then pulled him into an embrace. 

Zejun at first seemed tense and nervous at this unexpected kindness. But then, breaking Jiang Cheng’s heart, he gratefully returned it, holding Jiang Cheng as tightly as he could. 

With his face pressed to Jiang Cheng’s chest, he whispered, “When you fell…I thought my heart would stop.”

A heavy breath was forced from Jiang Cheng’s lungs as he hoped that sentiment was real, and remembered the sound of Zejun screaming his name as he fell. But then it occurred to him that he was not the only one who fell at that moment. He shut his eyes tightly. Whether the one he truly loved was him or Lan Xichen, at least Zejun was considerate enough to only call out for Jiang Cheng. His arms tightened around him as he struggled to control the urge to lock Zejun away somewhere, where he wouldn’t be tempted away by better men.

When the moment passed, he let him go. “Tell them I’m coming,” he muttered, pushing Zejun away from him toward the door. 

Zejun still looked a little concerned, but he nodded once more and was out the door a moment later. 

By the time Jiang Cheng was dressed and had joined the Lan leaders in Lan Qiren’s study, the young ones seemed to have grown bored waiting. When he walked in, of the usual rabble, only Jin Ling and Wen Ning were present, both in deep conversation with Wei Wuxian. But when he entered, and Jin Ling caught sight of him, the teenager’s expression fouled and he got to his feet. 

“Jin Ling,” said Jiang Cheng coldly, as if their fight had never happened. “It’s the middle of the night. Kids should be in bed.”

Jin Ling’s eyebrows twitched together, though he managed to control one of his usual outbursts. Instead he walked straight up to Jiang Cheng and said with an air of maturity that didn’t suit him, “I’m not a child, Clan Leader Jiang. My courtesy name is ‘Rulan,’ if you didn’t know.” 

Jiang Cheng raised incredulous eyebrows at this performance, but instantly saw it for what it was; just another tantrum. He flicked his eyes skyward and shook his head, only further enraging Jin Ling by being dismissive of his attempt at seeming like an adult. The teenager made a noise of irritation and swept off into the night without another word. 

Wei Wuxian chuckled at the exchange, shaking his head. “For someone without a dad, somehow he still became such a daddy’s boy.”

“Say that again,” Jiang Cheng growled, his fingers tightening around the snapping purple Zidian around his wrist.

“Ahh, I was wrong, I was wrong! I’ve just been kidnapped, all right? Give me a break,” Wei Wuxian protested, squinting his eyes and holding up a hand in preparation for being hit.

“Jiang Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng’s heart ached for a moment as he thought it was Lan Xichen’s voice, but he glanced up to realize that of course it was the younger Lan brother’s. Hanguang Jun gestured inside the study, where Lan Qiren was sitting and waiting for him. 

“Please sit,” he said.

With a final glare at Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng obeyed and entered the sitting room. He bowed before Lan Qiren, who nodded in return, and he took a seat in front of him when directed. 

“Clan Leader Jiang,” said Qiren. “We must apologize for your harrowing experience, and thank you for your assistance in recapturing Xiasu Sanren.”

“She’s still alive then?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Qiren nodded ruefully. “My nephew has only just finished explaining to me what happened.”

…

After reclaiming Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji was not inclined to part from him unless there was no other option. He had a brief moment of panic as Xiasu Sanren threw his brother off the waterfall. But he saw Jiang Wanyin grab onto his belt as they fell, and knew that barring extraordinary bad fortune, he could rely on him to take care of his brother.

In a moment of what Wangji observed to be irrational emotion, Fang Zejun drew his sword and attacked Xiasu Sanren. She easily dodged his first strike and grabbed him by the neck. Wangji’s fingers tightened on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, but Wei Ying was still coming around from having apparently been knocked unconscious before she took him. He couldn’t easily fight with him like this.

Fortunately, it was at this moment that an extraordinarily well-placed arrow glanced off Xiasu Sanren’s wrist, breaking her grip. While Zejun fell into the water at her feet and she observed the blood flowing down her hand, a dark figure emerged from the forest and tackled her to the ground. By the tattered black robes and wild, loose hair, Wangji recognized Wen Qionglin.

The one who had shot the arrow, in robes of glittering gold, landed on the far bank of the river. It was Jin Ling. He was quickly followed by Sizhui, Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen and several others who often snuck out with them on night hunts. While Sizhui worriedly asked Wangji what was going on, they all watched as Wen Ning and Xiasu Sanren battled fiercely hand-to-hand. Even as they fought, Xiasu’s eyes kept darting toward Wei Wuxian, making sure Wangji wasn’t taking him anywhere. Each time she tried to reach him, Wen Ning grabbed her and pulled her back. 

On one occasion she got far too close before his stopped her, a mere six feet from Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. She reached out her long-fingered, ghostly hand toward him before Wen Ning yanked her back by the her long, white hair and engaged her in battle once again. 

Wangji was starting to worry as it didn’t seem their fight was likely to end any time soon, when suddenly Wei Wuxian perked up in his arms. He stepped forward out of his grasp. Wangji took in a sharp breath as Wei Wuxian reached for Xiasu Sanren, then suddenly it seemed as if his hand passed straight through her.

Xiasu Sanren gasped and froze. She looked down, but from the angle Wangji could not see what she was looking at. “Cang…se…?” she murmured pitifully, turning her white head to try to see Wei Wuxian behind her.

Wei Wuxian sighed. But when he spoke, there was something unsettlingly different about his demeanor. “Xiasu,” he said, with a softness and maturity he usually lacked. 

Xiasu Sanren let out a shaking sigh, and an expression of great relief and happiness crossed her face. “Finally…I can join you…”

Wei Wuxian shook his head sadly. “Xiasu…how long will you go on hurting yourself and everyone around you?”

“Wh-…what?” Xiasu whispered, and even Wangji could feel the pain in her voice.

Unbelievably, Wei Wuxian let his head rest on her shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly with his free hand. “It would be just the same as before. Even if you reached me, Changze is here too. Our souls are intertwined. None can come between us.”

Wangji’s breath stopped as he realized what was different about Wei Wuxian’s voice. It wasn’t his own. 

Xiasu Sanren tried desperately to turn her neck enough to see Wei Wuxian properly, tears glistening in the moonlight. But he held her firmly and wouldn’t let her see him. “…I could be your dog. I don’t need you to love me. I just need to see you.”

Wei Wuxian, or the one possessing his body, shook his head. “Your resentment, your envy and pain, would all come over with you. If you made it into nirvana with all that weighing you down, it would be a miracle. And even if you did, you would become a monster. Everything about you would perish, for all eternity.”

Xiasu Sanren was sobbing. “I’m already a monster…” she said weakly.

“No,” said Wei Wuxian softly. “This pain is only temporary. The beautiful person you once were is still right here, and needs help to heal.”

“But…you’ve killed me…”

Wei Wuxian chuckled. “How can a ghost kill you?”

With that, Wangji was able to see a ghostly hand waving small, delicate and translucent fingers, which were sticking out of Xiasu Sanren’s chest. Wei Wuxian’s actual hand was only pressed into her back. 

“No. I only came because I thought you needed reminding of the shige I once admired so much. I’m using your trick. And I’m leaving you with all my favorite memories of them. Goodbye, Xiasu. Until you can reach nirvana without a burden.”

The feminine hand sticking from Xiasu Sanren’s chest began to retract. By the time Wei Wuxian pulled away from her, Xiasu was swaying on her feet. She slipped to the ground and fell partly in the water. Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen both gasped when they realized the current would take her, and pulled her up the bank. 

Wei Wuxian started to fall as well, and Wangji quickly caught him. His eyes blinked up at Wangji in surprise. “Oh, Lan Zhan…gosh you even look handsome when you’re worried. Did I miss something?”

…

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes to stave off a headache at the last detail, which Wei Wuxian had supplied as Lan Qiren’s story ended. The older Lan man flicked a glare at Wei Wuxian, but after all the commotion seemed inclined to let one or two small things go. 

“The only issue now, apart from what to do with her, is to try to determine exactly what might have been done to Xichen,” Qiren said. 

“Surely you must kill her,” Jiang Cheng muttered without thinking very deeply on the issue, drawing the surprise of the others in the room. “Or at least imprison her indefinitely. She’s caused enough mayhem for one person.”

Wei Wuxian actually seemed a little offended. “If you call that mayhem,” he grumbled.

Qiren took a breath in thought, seeming to consider the options. 

“We cannot,” said Lan Wangji, in that obstinate but ever-concise way of his. “Not until we learn her technique.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw shifted slightly with a worry he didn’t want to admit to. “Zewu Jun is still suffering?” he confirmed softly.

Neither of the two Lan men answered him, but they didn’t really need to. He sighed.

“The main reason we called you here was to ask for your myrmidon’s continued assistance,” said Lan Qiren at length.

Jiang Cheng’s jaw tightened. “Even though he says his music does nothing?”

Lan Wangji cast him a look that he might almost mistake for disdainful. “He has saved lives.”

“What?” Jiang Cheng shot back in perturbation, not realizing what he was referring to.

“Several times,” Hanguang Jun reinforced his message, but declined to elaborate. 

Wei Wuxian nodded somewhat reluctantly. “It was waking her up, she said. That’s why she hated it.”

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes with a sigh of irritation. It was in his power to decline this request. Lan Qiren would never go over his head where his own clan member was concerned, and Fang Zejun would never disobey him. It would be so easy to return to their old life, even to find greater happiness with this troublesome issue of Lan Xichen removed. Even Lan Xichen would never stand between them, not even to safe his own life, Jiang Cheng thought.

With this thought, pain at thinking of Lan Xichen’s predicament and guilt over own selfish thoughts almost stopped his breath. There was a reason he liked these two people so much. They both had qualities he admired, qualities he did not see in himself. And he had been about to hurt them both or his own interests. A dull ache spread over his body, but fortunately Wei Wuxian’s presence in the room helped remind him to learn from his mistakes.

“Then I’ll return to Yunmeng tomorrow. I’ll leave Fang Zejun in your care.”

He got to his feet. 

“Ah…Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian called after him as he swept past him. “Wh-…why don’t you stay a while? You know…cultivate,” he added, flinging his hands in the air with false enthusiasm.

“There’s no one here who needs me. There are those in Lotus Pier who do.”

“Ah…” Wei Wuxian clearly tried to stop him again, but Jiang Cheng ignored him.

What he said was true, after all. He had spent far too much of his life already pining after someone who didn’t feel the same way about him. Now three times. That was almost more than anyone could bear. And being alone so long had taught Jiang Cheng one thing at least: it was possible to live without love. So he told himself yet again, he didn’t need it.


	12. Moonlit Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Jiang Cheng's insecurity, and even laid low with Xiasu Sanren's attack, Zewu Jun is able to convince Jiang Cheng and Fang Zejun that he needs both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The poem is Songs of the Lute (I) by Sima Xiangru (179-117 BC), translation by David Hawkes. That’s almost three centuries before the invention of paper! Just saying, Chinese literature is amazing, and also Sima Xiangru is a very cool person, worth a google. 😊

After relaying Jiang Cheng’s message to the Lan leaders, Zejun tried to settle his nerves, wandering through the absolute silence of the Cloud Recesses at night. Although he had rarely seen it, due to the strict sleeping schedule here, there was a special beauty to the way the moon glanced off the varnished black of the wooden structures, and the white stones of the courtyard seemed to glow softly.

He could almost feel himself still shaking from what had happened. Xiasu Sanren had again grabbed him by the neck, and he was certain she had been seconds away from killing him this time. That, after seeing Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen fall over the waterfall, made this one of the most frightening experience of his life. And once again, his only “talent” had meant nothing.

There was something else. Clan Leader Jiang had been slightly odd, ever since they got back. He was not the type to hide his feelings, but somehow Zejun couldn’t read him at all. He had seemed angry when he asked to be wiped down like that. But the way he held him afterward, almost as if… Zejun’s breath caught as suddenly things fell into place. He had to talk to him.

He had turned to go back to Lan Qiren’s study to await the ending of their meeting, when he saw a flutter of blue and white in the corner of his eye. Faltering footsteps wound through the complex, disappearing and reappearing from behind structures. The fragility in that distant figure made Zejun pause. He was just starting to wonder who could be up at this hour, seemingly unwell, when he caught sight the owner’s profile. He gritted his teeth in anger at these two fools who couldn’t seem to keep themselves safe.

He hurried over, modulating his anger on the way, and caught both of Zewu Jun’s hands just as he stumbled. “Zewu Jun…” he said, trying not to sound disapproving.

Zewu Jun was trembling slightly. His gaze shifted slowly up to Zejun’s face, and when he recognized him, pain flickered across his expression. “No…you can’t…be here…it’s not safe…”

He lowered his head and shook it reflexively as if trying to rid himself of ringing in his ears. 

“Zewu Jun!” Zejun tried to rouse him, grasping him around his shoulders. “Let’s go back to your room, all right?”

“What’s going on?” a harsh voice cut through the silence of the Cloud Recesses.

Zejun’s heart practically leaped out of his chest. It was Jiang Cheng’s voice. He turned quickly to make sure Jiang Cheng had not misinterpreted the scene he had found here. But to his surprise, there was very little emotion on Jiang Cheng’s face at all. He didn’t even seemed surprised to find them like this. 

Again this was odd, but there would be time to worry about that later, Zejun thought. “I saw him wandering up toward the old storage sheds and didn’t know what to do,” he explained. “Would you help me get him back to his room, Clan Leader?”

Even more surprising, after taking in Zewu Jun’s state with a glance, Jiang Cheng nodded obediently without even an insult or criticism. He pulled one of Lan Xichen’s arms across his own shoulder and supported him with an arm around his waist. He nodded in front of him for Zejun to let go. 

“You go ahead. I’ve got him,” he said.

“Uh…yes, Clan Leader.”

Zejun led the way back to Zewu Jun’s rooms, opening the door for the other two when they arrived. Once they had him safely back in bed though, Xichen curled in on himself, his hand covering his eyes as if he was trying to stop from crying. Seeing such a serene and graceful person brought so low was truly unsettling. The other two looked on in vain, not knowing how to help him. 

Jiang Cheng eventually glanced in Zejun’s direction, but didn’t speak right away. After deep thought, he said with unusual softness, “Why don’t you sing something?”

Zejun’s chest ached at the thought that he was finally being acknowledged by Jiang Cheng, but only after he had lost all confidence in his abilities. He hung his head. 

“I’m beginning to think the Lan sect has been wrong about me all along,” he said softly. “I tried so hard to help Xiasu Sanren. But in the end-“

“What kind of excuse is that?” Jiang Cheng impatiently cut him off with typical curtness, raising a doubtful eyebrow at him. “What difference does it make if you’re good at it? You have a skill, and here’s someone it might help. What’s to agonize over?”

Zejun blinked up at him in amazement at Jiang Wanyin’s incredibly straightforward nature, which was often problematic but at times like this was a powerful thing. His heart utterly filled with love for him, so much so he was half smiling and half crying just standing beside him. He settled on intentionally widening his smile appreciatively.

“You’re really amazing. Jiang Wanyin.”

Even in the dark and cold of the night, Zejun could practically feel the heat from Jiang Cheng’s reddening cheeks. The clan leader waved him off to hide his embarrassment. “Insolent brat. Go on then.”

Hesitantly, Zejun moved to the other side of Lan Xichen’s bed to be nearer to him. “Zewu Jun…” he murmured softly, setting a hand on the bed near him to get his attention and hopefully make him feel less alone. “Shall I sing for you a little to help you sleep?”

Before Zewu Jun even opened his eyes, his long fingers curled around those of Zejun resting before him. Zejun’s heartbeat rose against his will. Xichen took in and let out a shaking breath, opened his eyes just a little to see Zejun’s face. He nodded.

Zejun took in a deep breath. 

“O phoenix, O phoenix! I come to my homeland.  
After roaming over the four seas for a mate.  
How can I help it, oh! when none is near at hand!  
Now I come to this hall, oh! Can I anticipate?  
There is in the boudoir a maiden nice and fair;  
Though near, she is beyond my reach, which breaks my heart  
How can we lie together like lovebirds in pair?  
Can we go up and down, oh! And never fly apart?”

Still standing on the other side of the bed, Jiang Cheng’s brows furrowed and he tapped his finger on his crossed arms irritably. “What do you mean by that song choice?”

But as soon as Zejun finished the first verse, Lan Xichen’s arms inexplicably reached out toward him. Without any explanation, Xichen pulled Zejun so close that he was practically lying in bed with him. He held him there tightly as if afraid he would fly away.

“Z-…Zewu Jun…” Zejun muttered, mildly panicked to have Jiang Cheng watching this. 

He expected an explosion of anger. He half expected Jiang Cheng to grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him out of here. But he did nothing of the kind. When he looked, he found Jiang Cheng watching him with almost no expression. He didn’t even look surprised.

Jiang Cheng eventually turned his gaze away from them, looking at the ground in thought. “I’m going anyway. You stay. Help him.”

“Clan Leader-!” Zejun cried, with the same sinking feeling he’d felt as Jiang Cheng held him earlier.

But then, without even loosening his hold on Zejun, Lan Xichen reached out a shaking hand toward Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin…” he said with barely any volume. His breath trembled and his fingers even more so. Zejun couldn’t see his face from this angle, but whatever expression he held at that moment, it seemed to do the impossible. It changed Jiang Cheng’s mind. 

“You…” Jiang Cheng struggled, still trying to leave. But in spite of himself, he took a step toward Xichen’s outstretched hand. “…don’t you understand? I’m saying you can have him, you heartless perfect thing.”

“Wanyin…!” Xichen cried with more urgency.

Jiang Cheng let out a shaking breath. He reluctantly took Xichen’s hand. The next moment, though weakened as he was, Zewu Jun easily pulled Jiang Cheng into bed so he was surrounding Xichen from behind, as he held Zejun in front of him. With one arm holding Zejun to him, Xichen pulled Jiang Cheng’s hand against his chest between his and Zejun’s bodies and clutched it against his heart. 

Though he could not know this at the time, even if he were lucid, Lan Xichen effortlessly broke and simultaneously healed the hearts of the two men on either side of him. Zejun caught Jiang Cheng’s gaze. Despite how much this felt like committing a crime, to be so close to Zewu Jun, Zejun’s heart felt full to bursting with happiness and tenderness for these two admirable men. 

Jiang Cheng’s gaze at that moment, even though he was too embarrassed to meet Zejun’s eyes for long, was softer than he had ever seen it. The truth was, they were all exhausted, and feeling someone else’s comfortable body heat in a bed, in the cold of night, was too tempting even for Jiang Cheng’s pride. His eyes fluttered closed. 

Before falling asleep, he shifted to better hold Xichen, slipping his arm under both Xichen’s neck and Zejun’s. Zejun’s heart ached to feel Jiang Cheng’s hand gently weave into his hair affectionately. He closed his eyes for a few moments just to savor the blissful feeling of Jiang Cheng’s affection and Xichen’s warmth. When he felt Xichen’s trembling subside, and perceived him to be asleep, he couldn’t hold back from rising slightly to reach over Xichen’s body to place a soft kiss at the corner of Jiang Cheng’s eye.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes opened and lips parted to look up at Zejun, finally showing traces of surprise. Though it was hard to tell with only the light of the moon from the high window, Zejun thought there might have been glistening under Jiang Cheng’s eyes. 

“You…” Jiang Cheng murmured, seeming to be searching for words. In the end, he closed his eyes again in exasperation. “Go to sleep,” he instructed irritably.

Zejun nodded and curled up against Lan Xichen, one hand stretching over his and Jiang Cheng’s bodies to curl into Jiang Cheng’s robes. 

…

Xiasu Sanren had apparently spent the rest of the night, once she revived, shaking and apologizing to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. At first it didn’t seem sincere, especially the resentment that still seemed to burn in her eyes for Jiang Cheng, but when she looked at Hanguang Jun, she seemed close to tears. 

“I…don’t know how to cure him,” she said, apparently referring to Zewu Jun. “But I’ll tell you how it was done.”

She explained the following morning that, with physical contact, she could use a technique similar to reverse empathy in order to pull someone else’s consciousness into her own. When she found a weak spot in someone’s psyche, she could pour her own pain into it, and even amplify it. This technique, she said, was especially effective on those who were already empathetic, but that they were also the most likely to be able to recover. Truly selfish people on whom she used this technique, according to her, sometimes broke completely and irrevocably.

Hanguang Jun, as he listened to this, showed rare emotion in the rage surrounding his eyes and tightening his jaw. “You used a technique that could have shattered my brother’s spiritual cognition?” he asked with dangerous softness.

Her eyes remained fixed to the ground, her head heavy with guilt. She nodded. 

Hanguang Jun remained standing there as if frozen for several long moments. No one was brave enough to speak during that time. If he was contemplating killing her, as it seemed he was, no one would have stopped him either. But with one final breath in and out, he merely nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, and left without a word, heading toward Zewu Jun’s rooms.

“Clan Leader,” Zejun got Jiang Cheng’s attention as they left the cell where Xiasu Sanren was being kept, now with a secure four-person guard. “The truth…were you planning on leaving this morning?”

Jiang Cheng let out a deeply irritated sigh, glancing skyward. “Can you let me have one goddamn moment of nobility? I can’t beat Zewu Jun in anything else but at least I can be selfless.”

Zejun closed his eyes to stave off the pain of imagining what Jiang Cheng must have been thinking last night, even though he was angry with him too. “Clan Leader…do you still think I like Zewu Jun better?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Jiang Cheng said, starting to walk away.

“…is that because you like him better than me, so you assume I do too?”

“What?!” Jiang Cheng demanded, his usual rage finally returned to him. “You…! Where the hell would you get that idea?!”

Zejun shrugged. “What about you?”

“I…!” Jiang Cheng turned away to get a handle on his emotions, taking a deep breath. But in the end his rage only shifted slightly. “What, so you want to say you feel nothing for him?!”

Zejun felt a stab of pain deep in his heart. He wanted to do anything he could to reassure Jiang Cheng. But lying now would only break his trust if he ever found out the truth later. “No…that would be a lie. He’s an incredible person. It would be impossible to feel nothing.”

Finally, Jiang Cheng’s rage seemed to cool as he accepted this. “I know.”

“But as great as he is, for the moment it seems he needs us beside him. Both of us.”

Jiang Cheng’s lips parted in uncertainty. “Both of us?” he repeated.

Zejun nodded. “So you can’t leave yet. Not until you figure that out, Clan Leader.”

“…I don’t-“

Before he could object, Zejun drew up his courage and gently touched Jiang Cheng’s cheek. The older man’s eyes fluttered and he watched Zejun with uncertainty as he was so boldly affectionate with him in broad daylight. Zejun offered him a reassuring smile.

“Well,” he said, sighing. “The sun is up and that means I’m already late for my chores. I’ll be visiting Zewu Jun later to sing to him. I hope you’ll be there too, Clan Leader.”

Zejun stroked Jiang Cheng’s cheek with his thumb, as always reluctantly to stop touching him, and finally went about his business, leaving a slightly lost Jiang Wanyin in his wake.


	13. Phoenix at the Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To comfort him through his ordeal, Jiang Cheng and Fang Zejun finally admit their mutual feelings for Lan Xichen. In his happiness and relief, Lan Xichen has a dream about Jin Guangyao.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the only difference in pronunciation between wèn 问 (“to ask”) and wěn 吻 (“to kiss”) is tone. Jiang Cheng mumbles, and Zejun mishears him. 😊

Lan Wangji devised a therapy for Lan Xichen of music and meditation, with some physical healing techniques as well, such as medicine baths and stone massage. In no more than three days, he had all but returned to his former psychological state, although some effects seemed to linger. Xichen had no memory of the night he had shared a bed with Jiang Cheng and Fang Zejun. Insteady, only a pleasant dream of being a phoenix in love with a human girl, who sang to him on a warm evening. 

Wangji also accompanied him each day at sword practice, just the forms without sparring in order to give Xichen a sense of active engagement with the world without a danger of qi deviation. Breathing in the scent of gradually frosting air of the approaching winter, with Wangji by his side and his body gliding across familiar forms, Xichen soon felt much of his anxieties dissipating. 

And something else strange but not unwelcome: during this time, as he healed, part of Lan Xichen said goodbye to a heavy grief that he had been carrying with him for a long time. Gradually, in place of the grief over the one he had lost, affection for those who were still here grew, like a humble vining plant which soon bloomed across the whole of his heart.

Another welcome help during this time, most often accompanied by Wangji’s guqin, was Fang Zejun’s voice. Unlike Wangji, who despite appearances was almost always extremely worried around Lan Xichen, Zejun’s expression as he sang was one of warmth and comfort. His steadiness gave Xichen a much-needed feeling of security, and a strangely pleasant ache as his feelings deepened each time he saw him. 

And then there was the other unexpected comfort and bright spot in the Cloud Recesses; when he wasn’t in his guest room sending off letters for his own clan’s business, an oddly restrained Jiang Wanyin was frequently to be seen doing chores or maintenance around the place. He even offered to take walks with Lan Xichen from time to time, which Xichen gratefully accepted. Somehow, the Cloud Recesses were returning to a state even brighter and more peaceful than they had started.

Xichen knew Xiasu Sanren was still here. But he put it would of his mind. He had to. 

One evening, as Jiang Cheng was walking with him, Xichen spotted Fang Zejun in the distance and briefly became entranced watching him. He didn’t even realize as he did that what he was seeing was breaking several codes of the Lan. Zejun was enthusiastically petting and talking to what seemed to be a stray dog who must have wandered up the mountain. An empty plate sat nearby, which Zejun had obviously used to feed it. As he watched, the scrawny dog jumped up toward the kneeling Zejun’s face several times in an attempt to lick him in gratitude, to which Zejun started nearly rolling on the ground laughing.

Xichen physically clutched his chest to ease the happy ache in his heart, and didn’t realize as his feet came to a stop. But Jiang Cheng did. 

The clan leader glanced curiously at Xichen before following his gaze. He sighed slightly. But before he could say anything, they both watched as Zejun was joined by some younger disciples. Sizhui and Jin Ling – who had remained in the Cloud Recesses as well for some reason – unhesitatingly knelt with Zejun in order to play with the dog. Even Jingyi bent down to scratch the happy creature’s ears. In moments, the atmosphere became thick with laughter as Zejun gave the dog a stick and played tug-of-war with it, with the other disciples gathering around and cheering the dog on. 

Jiang Cheng’s air became unusually pensive. “I forget sometimes how young he is. Little brat is always acting so mature.”

Xichen raised his sleeve over his mouth to cover a small chuckle. Though he momentarily became entranced once again with the undeniably joyful sight, he too sighed slightly. “Regretfully, we cannot feed animals who require meat in the Cloud Recesses.”

“Mm,” Jiang Cheng nodded. After a moment of thought, he said softly, “I was thinking it’s about time for me to go anyway. I can take it back with me to Yunmeng.”

The pleasant ache in Xichen’s chest turned sharply to a cold and hollow one. “Oh…” he murmured, his eyes falling.

“…I…” Jiang Cheng struggled, clearly uncomfortable at seeing Xichen’s joyless expression. “I didn’t mean this minute! I won’t…if you…” He sighed irritably. “Never mind. I won’t go yet anyway.”

Xichen couldn’t help a small smile in relief. Though many people were helping him at the moment, Wangji, Zejun and Jiang Wanyin were quickly becoming indispensable to him. He knew he was not strong enough to be apart from them yet, but at the same time did not feel it was his place to say so. 

Jiang Cheng walked back with him to his room. They were about to part when Xichen turned to tell him something; after the fact he couldn’t even remember what it was. He just wanted to delay Jiang Cheng, just a little longer. But Jiang Cheng misinterpreted his sudden turn to face him as a fall and instinctively grasped his hips to steady him.

Xichen took in a sharp breath. His hands fell quite naturally on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, so it really felt like they were embracing. Excitement, anxiety and happiness simultaneously surged through his body, amplified by the dreadfully embarrassed expression on Jiang Wanyin’s face. 

They both realized immediately Jiang Cheng’s mistake. But as they slowly recovered their breath, neither moved to separate. For Xichen’s part at least, it simply felt too good to be held this way. His heart thundered as he somewhat dazedly watched the changing expressions on Jiang Cheng’s face, a softening and increased warmth there that even further enticed him. 

Xichen wasn’t sure which began it, but their faces seemed to draw closer, as Jiang Cheng’s frowning and embarrassed eyes hesitantly turned up to meet his own. Xichen felt as if pulled toward him by invisible strings. He spent a long moment trying to control his breathing, but with Jiang Cheng’s hands on his hips and his face so desperately close, it was all to no avail.

“Wanyin…” he whispered softly.

Jiang Cheng’s breathing increased. He stared down at Xichen’s chest for some time, but still didn’t move to pull away. As he cast another pleading glance up at Xichen, both their resistance seemed to snap at the same moment. Xichen’s hands slipped around his neck and pulled him even closer. The next thing they both knew, each trapped the other’s lips in a kiss. 

Xichen was drowning in pleasant sensations even before Jiang Cheng’s fire seemed to have been lit, and he grasped Xichen tightly before kissing him so hard it almost hurt. Xichen’s eyes fluttered as desire built inside him like a raging storm. Jiang Cheng’s hands seemed to be everywhere, robbing him of strength and filling his brain with both pleasure and need. When their lips finally parted, Xichen had collapsed against his door, shaking. 

Jiang Cheng was breathing hard too, but a moment later he placed a hand flat on Xichen’s chest. “You stay right there,” he said.

“…huh…?” Xichen murmured blearily. 

“Don’t move!” Jiang Cheng directed, but was already half out of sight. 

Xichen blinked in a daze. Where could he possibly be going at a moment like this? Not even a minute later, however, Jiang Cheng returned with another in tow. Zejun seemed baffled by the fact of Jiang Cheng dragging him along by the wrist alone, even more so when he spotted Xichen, who must have still been somewhat flushed because Zejun immediately looked embarrassed as well.

“C-…Clan Leader…?!” Zejun squeaked, clearly in need of an explanation. 

But he was clearly not about to get one. Jiang Cheng opened the door to Lan Xichen’s rooms and pushed them both inside, closing it behind them. He remained there for a moment while the other two waited for him to explain himself. 

“Kiss him,” he mumbled.

Xichen and Zejun just continued to stare at him. At length, Zejun scratched the back of his neck in uncertainty, apparently thinking he had misheard. Xichen on the other hand was struggling to control the rapid increase in his heart rate, trying but failing not to glance over at Zejun to read his expression. 

“Ask him what?” Zejun asked patiently. 

Zejun’s innocence itself made the other two, who immediately grasped the misunderstanding, only more embarrassed. Xichen turned away, hiding his face in his sleeve and feeling like a horrible lecher, while Jiang Cheng glowered at Zejun. 

To make the point clear, he walked right up to Zejun to growl, “Pull the stupid out of your ears for a second.” Zejun only blinked lightly at this; it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. Jiang Cheng took a steadying breath and then mumbled, “I kissed him.”

Xichen watched Zejun’s face nervously, fearing he would be hurt or shocked or never want to speak to either of them again. But after gazing deeply into Jiang Cheng’s eyes for some time, Zejun’s expression softened and Xichen could swear he looked relieved and even happy.

“Did you?” Zejun asked gently, with a playful tilt of his head. “Well, your era of popularity has come at last, Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng bristled at Zejun referring to him so familiarly. But rather than comment on it, he rather adorably grumbled, “I do just fine. Bastard.”

Zejun’s gaze slowly lowered and he grew contemplative. “So then tell me: are you telling me this out of a sense of fairness, of guilt, or because you finally understand properly?”

Jiang Cheng just narrowed his eyes in irritation. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

Zejun’s face took on a blissful smile. He then embarrassed Jiang Wanyin even more by suddenly leaping over and clinging to him by holding him around the head like a child scared of a spider. Jiang Cheng tried to back away, flustered, but eventually just huffed and let him do it. 

“You’re embarrassing Zewu Jun,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by Zejun’s body. 

“Oops,” Zejun said quickly, jumping down. “Zewu Jun…whether the one you need is Jiang Cheng, or me, or both of us…we both want to be here for you.”

Xichen’s reluctant happiness slowly began to dim. “…because I’m sick…” he muttered softly.

But Zejun shook his head, walking over and taking both of Xichen’s hands in his. “Because there’s no one else like you in the whole world, and there never will be again.” 

Jiang Cheng nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I may have…” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “…not accepted it until recently…but that night under the waterfall wasn’t the first time I’d thought about holding you.”

As Xichen blushed badly, only having flashes of memory from that night but all being extremely compromising to his character, Zejun nodded too. “I’m ashamed to say this in front of Jiang Cheng, but my heart was already swayed the first time you offered to walk with me,” Zejun said softly.

“Ha!” Jiang Cheng said, pointing at Zejun. To Xichen he added, “I told you exactly that, didn’t I?”

Xichen covered his face in both hands in shame. Even despite the happiness bubbling up inside him and threatening to burst out of him, he couldn’t help feeling that he had selfishly gotten in the way of a couple who were meant to be together. Remembering Jiang Cheng’s criticism on the subject didn’t help.

“Both of you…” Xichen murmured, unable to lower his hands. “You’re so kind, but…you don’t need-“

He stopped speaking as a smaller hand snuck in under his own to weave through his fingers and clasp it firmly. Zejun, who Xichen could now see with only one hand to hide behind, took Xichen’s hand, bringing it down closer to his own height. Giving him a deeply comforting smile, he closed his eyes reverently and kissed the back of Xichen’s hand. Xichen’s breath stopped as he watched this sweet but humble gesture in wonder.

“What do you think, Jiang Cheng? Was that enough? Is he convinced?” Zejun asked.

“Are you going to keep calling me that?” Jiang Cheng grumbled, though he didn’t seem particularly upset. He walked over to observe Xichen’s face a little closer. He shook his head. “He’s still got that doe-eyed look on his face that he always does.”

Zejun cast another sweet smile up to Xichen. “I’d love to kiss you, Zewu Jun, but I can’t reach unless you help,” he said with a chuckle.

Xichen’s heart completely melted for him in that moment. Finally letting go of the guilt he had felt toward Jiang Cheng all this time, he gratefully caressed Zejun’s cheek in his hand. Like a contented dog, Zejun closed his eyes and leaned into his hand, leaving his face trustingly facing up and open toward Xichen. 

Xichen trembled slightly at the tempting sight before him. Slowly, he bent slightly to draw closer to Zejun’s waiting face. He brushed his lips against Zejun’s in a feather-light kiss. Zejun’s eyes slowly opened and gazed into his own, so close they shared breath, and Xichen could see Zejun’s eyes grow dark with affection and desire. He couldn’t help drawing his face up again and this time kissing him more firmly. He breathed deeply the scent of Zejun’s warm skin, tasting of his lips again and again.

When he finally parted from him for breath, stroking Zejun’s cheek and admiring his lips and cheeks as they grew slightly darker pink, Jiang Cheng’s hand broke his hold, pulling Zejun in the other direction, and grasping the back of his neck firmly to steal a deep kiss from him. Zejun whimpered slightly but his eyes fluttered with pleasure, sinking into Jiang Cheng’s touch. 

Even though it was heartwarming seeing how much they cared for each other, Xichen had a brief flash of fear at being left behind. Wordlessly, he surrounded Zejun in his arms, effectively breaking off their kiss, and hugged him tightly, closing his eyes and silently making sure he was real.

Jiang Cheng actually smiled lightly as he scoffed. “Take it easy, Zewu Jun. He’s not going anywhere.”

Xichen gazed longingly at Jiang Cheng too, wanting to hold him but not having big enough arms for both of them. “I’m afraid,” he said softly. “I’m so happy I’m afraid you’ll both turn to smoke and disappear.”

Zejun comfortingly hugged him tightly in return. Jiang Cheng also reached up and stroked his cheek with his thumb affectionately, almost making Xichen cry with happiness. “Zewu Jun,” Zejun said, patting his back. “Go lay down on the bed.”

Xichen swallowed nervously, reluctant to let go of Zejun or break off Jiang Cheng’s touch on his face. But as Zejun gently guided him that way, he allowed himself to be led to the bed. Each piece of his garments was slowly and conscientiously removed by Zejun, who gave him reassuring kisses along the way. Jiang Cheng seemed hesitant to join at first, but he too began to remove his clothes as he stood by the bed watching them. 

Zejun gestured for him to take his place so he could get undressed too. Xichen’s heart pounded as a naked and extremely well built Jiang Wanyin crawled up the bed toward him. Xichen clasped his face in both hands to admire his bitter but distantly pleased expression. He let Jiang Cheng close the final distance between them and claim his lips once again, and trembled in bliss. 

He pulled Jiang Cheng closer, as close as possible until the most sensitive parts of their bodies touched. Jiang Cheng let out a sharp gasp. But in spite of his embarrassment and hesitation, he allowed Xichen to gently move against him, their cocks pressed together until both were softly moaning with each outward breath. Xichen clung to his back and closed his eyes, resting his face in the hollow of Jiang Cheng’s neck and breathing in the scent of his hot skin.

Jiang Cheng was so immersed in this that he was not prepared for what Zejun was about to do to him. He yelped suddenly, causing Xichen to open his eyes. He flushed to see Zejun’s face very close to a vulnerable part of Jiang Cheng’s body, his eyes closed contentedly and his tongue disappearing and reappearing between the cheeks of Jiang Cheng’s ass.

“Fang…Zejun!” Jiang Cheng cried, as he trembled in shock in Xichen’s arms. “What…are you…trying to do?”

Zejun flicked an alluring glance up toward both Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen, but didn’t stop what he was doing. Instead, he soon replaced his tongue with two fingers and began stretching Jiang Cheng’s entrance, exploring inside him and quickly finding the point that made Jiang Cheng’s breath catch. 

Finally he said, “Clan Leader Jiang. Does it hurt?”

“N-no…” Jiang Cheng muttered, grasping Xichen’s shoulders for support and unintentionally sending waves of pleasure through Xichen as his fingernails now and then dug into his skin. 

“Then…is it good?”

As he asked this, Zejun simultaneously thrust both fingers deep inside his clan leader, while pressing his thumb against the area between Jiang Cheng’s hole and scrotum. Jiang Cheng’s back arched and an aching moan slipped from him. Xichen supported him as he seemed to lose the strength in his arms.

“…no!” Jiang Cheng said stubbornly, but despite his objections, the pleasure was thick in his voice as with every other part of his reactions.

In fact, he let his head drop against Xichen’s shoulder and even coquettishly raised his hips and bucked them lightly in time with Zejun’s movements. “Are you sure?” Zejun asked him in a dubious tone.

“…shut up!” Jiang Cheng said, though his voice broke sweetly. 

Xichen adored his reactions. He surrounded him even more firmly in his arms and giving his cheek comforting kisses as if in gratitude for being so adorable. Soon Jiang Cheng’s objections were confined to embarrassed moans as he became more and more a slave to the pleasure Zejun was giving him. Xichen continued to hold and kiss him, and watched in wonder as Zejun rose to a kneeling position behind Jiang Cheng, moistening the fingers of his other hand inside his mouth and then using them to stroke his cock. 

Xichen shivered; he had always thought of Fang Zejun as quite sweet and sensitive. He had never seen him act so feral and masculine. Xichen had no idea that he found that sort of thing so enchanting, but apparently he did. 

Despite Jiang Cheng’s twitching and nervous whimpering, Zejun slowly filled him with his cock. Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth and uttered a soft moan. Xichen, who had more than once tried this with Jin Guangyao, knew what Jiang Cheng was feeling and held him even tighter to distract him. He also couldn’t help imagining his own in place of Zejun’s, and nearly came just from the thought. 

“Jiang Cheng…” Zejun whispered breathlessly, his control all but gone at the feeling of finally being joined with the one he had love for so long. “…how is it? Does it hurt?”

Jiang Cheng hesitated, but then mumbled irritably, “Of course it hurts.”

“Too much? Do you want to stop?”

But if possible, at being asked this, Jiang Cheng looked even more irritated. He turned his head halfway around to glare up at Fang Zejun. He reached up behind him and took Zejun by his hair in a passionate grasp. Pulling Zejun down toward him, he muttered, “I instructed you better than that. Finish what you start.”

Zejun smiled gratefully down at him. Ignoring the threat in Jiang Cheng’s manner and grasp of his hair, Zejun leaned down to place many kisses on Jiang Cheng’s cheek and neck. In moments, some of the tension eased from Jiang Cheng’s body and he seemed to unconsciously give over most of his weight to Xichen as his focus turned more and more to the cock of his myrmidon slowly spreading him out. Xichen did his part to help by kissing every part of Jiang Cheng’s cheek, neck and shoulder that he could reach.

When Zejun finally began moving inside him, after only a few moments of apparent discomfort, surprised cries of pleasure began to leak out of Jiang Cheng’s mouth. He tensed and lifted his head in shock, so Xichen could see the concern on his face at how good he was actually feeling. Xichen lost all sense of worry or thought of anything else as he was entranced by Jiang Cheng’s innocent reactions. He couldn’t stop from claiming his mouth and swallowing up his moans, even as they began to grow more panicked.

A high pitched voice that sounded nothing like his normal one reverberated against Xichen’s lips as Zejun’s pace increased. Xichen’s own control was waning as he happened to open his eyes while kissing Jiang Cheng and see Zejun’s face, looking quite pitifully trapped in pleasure. Zejun met his gaze and seemed overwhelmed. He lay down on top of Jiang Cheng and wordlessly pulled Xichen away from him to kiss him deeply. 

Xichen gasped, instinctively thrusting his hips upward too meet Jiang Cheng’s, which were at the mercy of Zejun’s. He was further driven to the brink, as well as quite surprised, to find Jiang Cheng nuzzling the inside of his neck very sweetly. It seemed as if Zejun had the power to turn Jiang Cheng into a kitten. 

He was a little sad, though none of his excitement faded, when Zejun’s lips left his in order to kiss and whisper in Jiang Cheng’s ear, “Jiang Cheng…Jiang Cheng…”

With this, Jiang Cheng cried out loudly and arched his back, seeming to give himself over to the pleasure. Xichen grasped onto his hips to keep them pressed firmly against his own, bringing both of them right to the edge. Fortunately Zejun seemed not far behind them. He sank his teeth down into Jiang Cheng’s neck and grunted softly as he pumped his cum inside him.

Jiang Cheng let out a panicked yelp. Even as he was in the midst of cumming himself, Xichen reassuringly and hungrily kissed Jiang Cheng’s cheek. Jiang Cheng was the last to cum and seemed completely overwhelmed by the feeling, trembling and twitching until long after he had painted Xichen’s chest with it. 

The air was filled with desperate breathing as they recovered from this experience. In fact, in part due to relief at being together with them, in part with the comfortable body heat, Xichen’s consciousness quickly left him and he fell into an extremely deep and refreshing sleep even with the other two still on top of him. He dreamed that night of something very sad, but something that nonetheless gave him hope.

He was in that tower he had dreamt of, when he was a phoenix in love with a maiden. But this time, it was he alone in the tower, dreaming of his love far away. In the depth of a peaceful and starry night, the bird came to rest in his open window, and transformed into a familiar face. 

Though this was the same face that had tormented him almost to the brink of insanity, this time he felt no fear that he would die in front of him again, and no pain at his betrayal. Instead, he smiled in pure joy at the sight of him there, silvery in the light of the moon. He came to rest on his knees at the window, laying his head into the lap of the one he had loved with all his heart. 

Jin Guangyao stroked his hair as he would a child. It was an old habit of his and something that often brought Lan Xichen agony at the memory of his loss, but this time it was deeply reassuring. “A-Yao,” he said softly. “You found me.”

Yao actually smirked in that condescending way of his, which Xichen also loved because he rarely showed his true nature to anyone else. “Don’t be in such a hurry. It’s not time yet.”

Xichen looked up at him in confusion and disappointment, though he was again dazzled by his angelic appearance. Yao was more beautiful than he ever remembered, and looked at him in a way he had often hoped he someday would, without any pain or regret. He looked happy. 

“I haven’t forgotten. Have you? A little valley, where I’ll plant fruit trees and you’ll play music. We’ll swim in the stream and sun ourselves all day if we want to. And when we’re tired of heaven together, we’ll sit on the same lotus petal.”

Xichen nodded, strangely not crying even though he was sure if he had heard Yao say these words in reality he would have. “I’ve never forgotten. If not now, then when?”

Yao considered. “When you are older than Lan Qiren, and still ten times as handsome,” he told him sweetly. “When your disciples and their disciples are all grown up, and everything is at peace in the world. Then you can be sure: if you don’t die and come find me, I’ll come kill you just to be sure.”

Lan Xichen was probably the only person in the world to find that funny, but he certainly did. He would even remember this dream and laugh softly to himself in the future. Because for many reasons, being killed by Jin Guangyao was indeed a happy thought for him. 

“What shall I do until then?” he asked.

Jin Guangyao looked at him with pity. He leaned down and pulled Xichen’s face upward to kiss him very softly. While still close, he said, “Treasure every day that you have.”

“…even without you?”

“You’re never without me. Believe me, I may be subtle about it but I’m haunting you all the time,” Yao said casually, and though Xichen chuckled, he half believed him. “And for a second attempt…you could have gone worse than those two,” he admitted softly. 

“Do you mean that?”

Yao nodded, though he seemed reluctant to praise any partner of Lan Xichen’s that was not himself. 

“…would you prefer I chose only one?”

Yao’s pretty eyes flicked skyward as he thought about this. “I don’t have any problem with Jiang Wanyin. He’s not weak. Quite loyal and just. And he’s the better looking one. But he’s too harsh for you.” Xichen smiled softly at Yao’s quite acerbic appraisal. “The other…” Yao’s eyes suddenly became downcast. “I don’t like the way his music affects you. Which probably means it’s healthy and I should keep my nose out of it.”

“Perhaps you can be reassured by far outmatching him in looks,” Xichen placating him, though feeling a stab of guilt toward Zejun even as he did.

Yao dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Unnecessary. I far outmatch both of them in every way that matters anyway. Of course there’s only one that I care about…”

Though he so often failed to understand him in real life, Xichen was easily able to understand Yao at this moment. He rose from kneeling and unhesitatingly kissed the man who still owned most of his heart. “Yes,” he said as they parted. “I’ll never love another as I love you.”

Yao’s small mouth twitched upward in a smile, though he seemed to be trying to hide it. He nodded. “Well. It’s all right if you come close.”

“I love you.”

Even though he was no more than a ghost, or perhaps even just a dream, Yao’s smile at that moment in the imaginary tower in the too-perfect moonlight, was stained with tears. Even so, he met Xichen’s eyes with love and softly caressed his cheek. 

“A little valley. I’ll plant fruit trees.”

“And I’ll play music.”

Yao gave Xichen one last teary smile. He changed back into a bird and flew off into the night sky. 

When Xichen woke the next day, Zejun was already gone but he was lying in bed, his body somehow having been wiped down while he was sleeping, with Jiang Wanyin curled up like a puppy in his arms. His head was even resting firmly on his shoulder, and it was falling asleep. Xichen let out an audible sigh of relief and joy. He curled up against Jiang Cheng, bringing him even closer, and kissed his cheek.


	14. Shared Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Lan Xichen overcomes his battles with past pain evoked by the ghost cultivator, both he and Jiang Cheng both help Fang Zejun to overcome insecurities about his looks. Fang Zejun finally discovers what he means to both of them.

Fang Zejun had left Lan Xichen’s quarters early that morning, as he feared risking his luck by indulging too much in joyful time spent with the two great gentlemen kind enough to share his company. He went about the usual Gusu Lan sect morning chores without much thought, now and then joking discreetly with disciples he knew. He had never told anyone this, but inside his own mind, there was one thing that confirmed his destiny as a myrmidon and not a great cultivator: he actually liked doing laundry. 

It wasn’t for erotic reasons, although now and then his heart did beat a little faster while doing Jiang Cheng’s. The water was soothing, the necessary motions both repetitive and meditative. But most of all, he felt a particular kind of joy to be doing something simple, physical, but helpful to someone he cared about. He only wished cultivating his voice were this straightforward.

But while doing this, he caught a now familiar, melancholy sight. Past the window of the washroom, a flutter of blue and white silk. The flick of a headband against black hair, over a tall and noble back. The figure slowly came to a stop. Zejun observed the graceful man standing there for a moment, then sighed softly when he realized what was wrong.

He hung the last item he had been washing to dry, dried his hands, and stood in the doorway to observe from a distance to make sure. 

Zewu Jun stood tall as usual, but somehow there was tension in his back that spoke of fear. One hand rested on the side of a building as he hesitated to go further. He was not even in sight of Xiasu Sanren’s cell yet. But that was the direction he was looking. 

“Zewu Jun…” Zejun called softly as he approached, to avoid surprising him. 

Xichen took a deep breath before turning around. There was kindness in his face, but Zejun’s heart fluttered as he realized Xichen was not even trying to smile. He couldn’t explain why, but that made him feel honored. Lan Xichen took a step toward Zejun and when near, hung his head a little closer in a subtle gesture of intimacy that made Zejun ache for him. 

“Mm…” Xichen murmured, apparently acknowledging Zejun’s conclusions about what he was doing. He paused for a moment before explaining. “…do you think me foolish, Zejun?” he asked, somehow truly resembling Lan Wangji for the first time that Fang Zejun had ever seen. 

“I’d like to see Zewu Jun being foolish someday. I can’t quite picture it,” Zejun quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

He was rewarded with a subtle smile on the elegant face fixedly watching his. But Xichen’s eyes soon traveled down to the ground as the moment faded. “There is…still one thing I would like to ask of Xiasu Sanren.” He took in a quick breath as if something had robbed it from him. He shook his head in self-deprecation. “There is no way she can harm me now. Yet fear still stops my feet. How shameful.”

Zejun could hardly bear to hear how much the attack had hurt Lan Xichen. He was at a loss for how to help him. At the least, he thought, he could distract him. “Shall we walk together a while?”

Xichen closed his eyes with a brief expression of pain. “Zejun…” To Zejun’s shock, his hand reached out and clung to Zejun’s sleeve. In a very soft voice, he murmured, “It is so difficult…when all I would like to do is take you back to my room.” While Zejun was still reeling from the pounding of his own heart, Xichen’s eyes opened and gazed with affection on the sleeve he was holding. “But…if you would be so kind as to walk with me, perhaps I could gather my courage.”

Zejun nodded. “For now, just a walk. If you get somewhere or not, either is fine.”

Xichen nodded with an achingly beautiful smile. After squeezing it a little, he let go of Zejun’s sleeve, folding both hands behind his back as they began to walk together in a roundabout route that went near the meditation cells. 

They made idle conversation on the way. Now that Jiang Cheng had more or less accepted this new intimacy between them, Zejun felt less reluctance about revealing some of his little idiosyncrasies to Xichen, which he had been desperately holding in since his indoctrination. Fortunately, Lan Xichen seemed delighted to hear them. 

“He…can’t eat things of different colors in the ‘wrong’ order?” Zewu Jun asked, trying to stifle laughter.

Zejun nodded seriously. “You laugh, but it’s like a disease. If you give him green, white and brown food, it doesn’t matter if it’s sweet cakes or turnips, he’ll in them in that order.”

“…what is that color hierarchy based on? It’s so mysterious…” Xichen commented, as if this were a real issue.

“Ah…here’s her cell, if you want to talk to her.”

Xichen took in a sudden breath, looking up to confirm that they had indeed arrived at his destination. His brows drew slightly together, his lips closed. He took in a difficult breath and let it out slowly. 

“…Zewu Jun?” Zejun asked him cautiously. 

“I’m here,” Xichen said, firmly. “I must ask before I lose my nerve.”

Zejun nodded. “I’ll wait here.”

Xichen looked at him in surprise. He hesitated, glancing down at the ground below Zejun’s feet. “I would be grateful if you would stay near…”

Zejun didn’t hesitate to nod again, feeling once again grateful to also be able to serve someone like Lan Xichen who spoke their feelings honestly. He loved everything about Jiang Cheng, but on occasion it could be a minefield guessing his true feelings about things. He approached together with Zewu Jun most of the way to the cell, but held back just a few feet from him in order to give them some amount of privacy. 

Zewu Jun stood before the cell, and though Xiasu Sanren clearly noticed him, she did not look up from where she was sitting, staring at the floor. 

“Xiasu Sanren…how goes your healing?”

At first, the ghost-like cultivator gave no sign that she had heard. She eventually answered, “Painful and humiliating.” She reluctantly turned her white-eyelashed gaze up to him, for once seeming to lack open enmity toward him. “More so as I remember the things I have done. But I accept this as what little penance I am capable of giving.”

Xichen took a slow breath in, seeming slightly surprised by this honest and rather wordy response. He gave a small nod. 

Xiasu Sanren watched him with a frown of curiosity. “Did I neglect some information I should have given you?”

He slowly shook his head. “…not exactly.”

“Hm,” Xiasu Sanren commented dully. “If it’s a social visit, I’m afraid I must refuse, Lan Xichen. My guilt toward you doesn’t make me dislike as a person you any less.”

For once, Lan Xichen expressed a hint of incredulity at this. Normally, Zejun thought, he would have shrugged off such hostility easily. He seemed to be genuinely angry that she should express such callous sentiment toward someone she had harmed. Nonetheless, he seemed able to set it aside and considered how to broach his real reason for being here.

“…your power…” he said softly, and Xiasu Sanren looked up. “…can it cause dreams?”

There was a minimal widening of her eyes, but she soon disguised the emotion. “What did you see?” she asked, rather than answering.

Xichen closed his eyes. “Someone…of whom you gave me visions, that day. Someone, who I know…is dead. And must resent me, for my part in what was done to him. In this dream, he was not as I had known him. He was kind…happy. I saw no resentment, lingering regret, or desire for revenge. I hate to ask, but you see…none of this was like him. If it were a kind vision you sent me…thank you. It was unnecessary. But I would like to know one way or the other.”

Her translucent eyes watched him unblinkingly for some time, seeming to be searching his face for something. At length she tilted her head with an expression of interest. 

“The visions I send are drawn from personal pain and tragedy. I also need direct contact to do it. I have never even heard of a victim of mine having happy visions. If there is a way to make them, I don’t know it.”

Zejun was surprised again to see Xichen’s chest seem to swell with unexpected emotion.

“Of course…” she added, cutting through whatever emotion Xichen was feeling. “…dreams are dreams. We all know ghosts exist, and some legends say they can do just what you say, enter dreams and give messages. But no one knows for sure. One thing dreams do for certain is let you speak to yourself, honestly, without your ego to shield you. So take that as you will, Lan Xichen.”

Zejun was worried that this news would be hurtful to Xichen, though he of course didn’t know the contents of the dream he was describing. But to his surprise, Xichen raised a hand and pressed it to his chest as if coveting something small and invisible, and slowly nodded. 

“Thank you,” he said, and with that turned back to Zejun. He gave a soft, reluctant smile. “Let’s go.”

Zejun wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he nodded. 

That evening, when Lan Xichen invited both Jiang Cheng and Fang Zejun to his room, he was kind enough to explain to both of them what his exchange with Xiasu Sanren had been about. 

Jiang Cheng listened in polite silence to most of Xichen’s story, although his expressions gave away how affected he was by all of this. Yet despite the fact that he was clearly moved by what Lan Xichen had gone through, his first reaction was rather minor. 

“That Jin Guangyao has a lot of nerve calling me ‘harsh.’ Like he never killed anybody,” Jiang Cheng grumbled.

Zejun also flushed with shame at the idea that, of course, it was obvious to others how much he lost out in looks compared to the three other gentlemen involved. And that Zewu Jun thought so too. Though he tried to be more concerned with what Zewu Jun was going through, it was hard not to focus on that.

Xichen smiled apologetically toward Jiang Cheng. “What he said was mostly praise…”

Zejun again looked away at this, reminded again that the same had not been true for him. He had gotten the meaning of Xiasu Sanren’s words while Zewu Jun was talking. That if it hadn’t been the ghost of Jin Guangyao that appeared to him in that dream, the perhaps more likely option was that it had been Lan Xichen trying to tell himself something, without the barrier of his ego in the way. In other words, that was what he really thought. 

He felt Lan Xichen’s gaze on him and tried to keep his expression neutral, realizing it was not only acceptable but appropriate for Zewu Jun to feel he wasn’t worthy of him. There was no need to burden Lan Xichen with his own, petty feelings. 

In the extended silence that followed Zewu Jun’s story, it seemed Xichen was about to say something to Zejun. But at that moment, Jiang Cheng said, “So? Have you decided which it was?”

Xichen let out a slow breath in thought. “I can’t say for sure. He was so like him, the A-Yao in my dream. I doubt my memory could be so accurate. And yet…” He shook his head with a sad sigh. “…to think he could find happiness somewhere, and still forgive me…I can only think that was my own desires becoming manifest.”

Jiang Cheng watched Xichen with concern, but by the time he finished speaking, Zejun was already shaking his head.

“I didn’t know the former Clan Leader Jin very well,” Zejun said softly. “But if nothing else, there is no way he could not have known how much you loved him. Whether or not he was able to cleanse his sins and reach nirvana is another matter. But certainly given that his last act in this world was to save you, nothing seems unnatural about your dream at all.”

“Zejun…” Xichen murmured, his eyes softening warmly.

Zejun lowered his head, suddenly very conscious of Xichen being disillusioned with his looks by looking at him too much. “Oh…before I forget. I found someone who can take Little Bean – uh, that’s the dog we found – in the village. So I’ll go and stay down there tonight and make sure he gets settled.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “What kind of a name is ‘bean’?”

“…that’s what I’ve been feeding him, mostly.”

“Wait, Zejun,” Xichen interrupted, concerned. “It shouldn’t take so long just to go down to the village…and surely you could send Little Bean down with the next trip for supplies in a couple of days. There’s no need for you to go yourself.”

“Mm…” Zejun admitted nodding. “I just feel responsible for him. Maybe I’m starting to understand Clan Leader Jiang’s feelings about taking me in,” he joked as he stood. But as he feared, neither of the other two laughed. Could they tell what he was trying to hide? He clasped his hands and bowed to each of them. “Zewu Jun. Clan Leader.”

After he left and closed the door behind him, he was able to catch Zewu Jun’s soft voice saying, “He called you ‘Clan Leader’…”

Jiang Cheng responded, “So? He was properly respectful for once.” 

“But we’re alone. I thought he had stopped doing that.”

Zejun closed his eyes tightly and left quickly, not wanting to know how mortifying that conversation might be. As he thought, the sensitive Zewu Jun must have realized at least that something was wrong. He hoped he hadn’t realized exactly what. 

He could not bear the shame of not only Zewu Jun thinking him unattractive, but that he might realize Zejun had such thin skin about it. Zejun should already be aware of his poor looks and be humble about it, he thought. Why was it so easy to be humble about much more important things, but not about something that shouldn’t even matter?

As he promised, he gratefully took advantage of the distraction of getting Little Bean settled in his new home, down in the village. But when he had finished his task and regretfully bid goodbye to his brief companion, he somehow didn’t feel like finding an inn down here in the valley. He wanted to be near Jiang Cheng after all. Judging there was just enough light to make it up the mountain, he made his way back up to the Cloud Recesses.

The trip both ways had given him a lot of time to think. He understood well Jiang Cheng’s impulse to give him up in order to give priority to what seemed to be a more advantageous relationship for both parties. Indeed, Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen were two clan leaders, both powerful, both handsome, and both had experienced more loss in this life than anyone should. They needed each other for good reason, and they suited each other. The one who didn’t…was Zejun.

Though he knew it was wrong, he wanted to confirm what he suspected would happen when he said he would be away from the Cloud Recesses for an evening, especially after having left Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen together. He approached Lan Xichen’s room. Though his heart pounded in guilt at what he was doing and anticipated pain at what he would find, he leaned his ear against the wall. 

To his surprise, though, unless they were doing something very quiet, nothing was happening in Zewu Jun’s quarters. A lamp was lit, so at least one person was inside, but no one was even talking. Confused, he stepped away and headed toward Jiang Cheng’s quarters just to make sure. 

A lamp was lit here too. He frowned curiously and knocked on the door. “Clan Leader Jiang?”

“…Zejun?” asked Jiang Cheng in surprise. There was a sound of footsteps, and the door opened. Jiang Cheng frowned at him. “What are you doing back so soon?”

“Oh…I just…felt it was a waste of money to stay in an inn after all. I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head and left the doorway open for him, returning to his desk. “I was reviewing some financial records. I don’t know when we’ll be returning properly to Yunmeng, but the tasks are really piling up.”

Zejun hesitantly came in and looked around, still expecting to find Zewu Jun here, perhaps sleeping off of pleasant exchanges with Jiang Cheng. But he was nowhere in sight. “…Clan Leader…”

“Hm?”

“You…” Zejun had been about to ask outright whether Jiang Cheng had or hadn’t done anything with Zewu Jun while he was gone, but quickly shook himself of the question, thinking it was far too presumptuous. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jiang Cheng pressed.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just surprised that you and Zewu Jun weren’t still together,” he said with a smile, hoping it looked natural.

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at him. “Why? You were looking forward to seeing him instead?”

Zejun sighed. “Clan Leader…I’m sure I’ve told you who the one I love is.”

“Hmm,” Jiang Cheng answered doubtfully. He returned from his desk to stand before Zejun, effectively threatening him with nothing but his height. “What happened to your uppity attitude then?”

“My what?”

The Jiang Clan Leader scoffed. “Already forgotten? You got full of yourself as soon as I agreed to this weird relationship, and started calling me by my name. Lost your nerve already?”

Zejun blinked, not having realized it himself. He blushed, thinking of the times he had privately called Jiang Cheng both by his courtesy name and his childhood one. Even close friends of equal rank rarely did that, and Zejun certainly was neither of those to Jiang Cheng. He should never have done it to begin with.

“I’m sorry…as you say, I got excited and full of myself.” He clasped his hands and bowed. “I’ll take more care.”

But rather than agree with him, when he glanced up at Jiang Cheng’s eyes he thought he might have looked somewhat hurt. “How come you can’t tell a joke when it concerns yourself?”

“…a joke?”

Jiang Cheng huffed, folding his arms. “And I’ll tell you something else. You’re fine.”

Zejun tilted his head, quite lost at this point. “…Clan Leader…?” he muttered.

Jiang Cheng glared at him for referring to him that way again, but soon sighed and relented. “You’re no Jin Guangyao. But you’re fine. So you…” He growled in frustration as his words ran out on him. “…have some confidence in what you have.”

Fang Zejun did feel a small glimmer of warmth at Jiang Cheng’s attempt to reassure him. But by the time he finished, his ears had already blocked out the main message: to appreciate his own merits. He was stuck at the first sentence. ‘You’re no Jin Guangyao.’ It was surprisingly painful to hear out loud that Jiang Cheng thought so too.

Even so, he was already mortified that clearly Jiang Cheng and Zewu Jun had been talking about his pathetic behavior. He wanted to save some pride by reassuring Jiang Cheng that that was not the case. “Thank you, Clan Leader, but I wasn’t really worried about that.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows rose dubiously. “Oh really?”

Zejun swallowed as he tried to form the right words that would express how he felt without making Jiang Cheng feel guilty or pressured. “I was just thinking…the first time the three of us were…together. You and Zewu Jun had kissed first, isn’t that right?”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw twitched and his dubiousness morphed into irritation. “You and I did a lot more than that first,” he growled.

Zejun chuckled. “Yes. But when you kissed, you came to get me. I was happy, but…you didn’t need to.”

“…what do you mean I didn’t need to?”

Zejun shrugged dismissively, trying his best to seem like none of it really mattered to him. “As long as the two of you are happy, I won’t be upset at all. So…if you left Zewu Jun tonight because of that, it’s not necessary. I won’t feel left out.”

Jiang Cheng’s irritation dissipated with a look of incredulity. He glanced skyward as if asking for help from the heavens, then sighed heavily. “Fang Zejun…you are misunderstanding a couple of things. Come with me.”

With that, he grasped Zejun by the shoulder and pushed him back out into the night. He took him straight back to Lan Xichen’s quarters and knocked lightly. 

“Yes?”

“Zewu Jun, are you still up? Fang Zejun came back early,” Jiang Cheng said casually. 

“Oh, how nice,” Zewu Jun replied, causing Fang Zejun to blush when he thought he heard genuine happiness in his voice. The door opened and Lan Xichen smiled at both of them, but his kind expression lingered on Zejun. “Welcome back,” he said softly.

Zejun felt cornered. He wanted to cry, feeling to the core of his being that he didn’t deserve such attention from such a great man. But it would be against his purposes to make a scene at a time like this. So he merely bowed, and entered when Xichen invited them both in. 

“Xichen,” Jiang Cheng said, as soon as they were settled. “I was just trying to clear up some misunderstandings this little brat seems to have. You’ll back me up, right?”

Xichen chuckled. “I assume so.”

“First,” Jiang Cheng continued, turning to Zejun. “Zewu Jun and I aren’t in love with each other.”

Zejun recoiled in shock at hearing these words from Jiang Cheng’s mouth. He blinked at him, as if expecting someone else to jump out of a Jiang Cheng suit, because even if they were true, Jiang Cheng didn’t talk about these things. He quickly looked toward Zewu Jun.

Xichen smiled a little sadly. “No…I wouldn’t call it ‘love.’ Not in a romantic sense. Jiang Wanyin is a great man, and a great comfort. I do treasure him…but I would not marry him, even if I could.”

Jiang Cheng nodded his head significantly toward Lan Xichen to show Zejun it was true. “So that’s how it is,” he said.

Zejun’s lips parted as he tried to understand what these two meant to express to him. “Zewu Jun…do you mean that this relationship was forced on you, against your will?”

Both men looked on him in disbelief. Jiang Cheng even rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, no!” Xichen reassured him. “Only that…while I think we are both happy with this arrangement, we are neither of our ideal partners.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “Zewu Jun is incredible, but I’d feel competitive if we were alone. I’d probably get petty and jealous too.” He glanced at Xichen with a look of suspicion. “Also I get the sense you’re a lot less innocent than you let on, Xichen.”

Utterly failing to disprove that last comment, Lan Xichen chuckled warmly in an unconvincing show of innocence. 

But Fang Zejun still hadn’t grasped why they were revealing this to him at all. “If it’s not ideal…does that mean it’s unnecessary?”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth opened in irritated shock. He pointed a finger at Zejun and addressed Xichen, “Look at this. You say something to him, Xichen.”

Lan Xichen rose from where he was sitting and walked around to sit directly beside Zejun, grasping his hand. Zejun’s heart leapt into his throat. He watched Zewu Jun in wonder as he smiled warmly down on him. 

“We may not be in love with each other. But we are both happy because we can be with someone we do love.”

Zejun felt frozen as hope slowly rose in his chest. His eyes stung and his vision grew blurry as he watched Zewu Jun. For a moment, he could barely move and it even hurt to try to speak. But he had to make sure. “But…I’m nothing like the former Clan Leader Jin. Even less like Lady Wen.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed dismissively. “Now we know what Fang Zejun really thinks. You heartless bastard. Are you saying you just like us for our looks?”

With this, even as a tear dripped down his cheek, Zejun turned to Jiang Cheng with frustration. “I’ve told you about a hundred times I’ve been in love with you since I was about fourteen!”

“And me?”

Zejun’s heart throbbed with painful happiness and excitement at the husky voice murmuring softly, so close to him. He felt heat reaching his cheeks as he shyly turned to the great man beside him and was forced to explain how he felt about him. 

“L-…like I said, Zewu Jun…since that first time you offered to take walks with me.”

His heart could hardly take the ache that Zewu Jun bestowed on it moments later by gently cupping his cheek in his hand. Holding his gaze with deep affection and fascination, he said softly, “Then it seems I have some catching up to do.”

“It’s also fine if you don’t,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, watching the two of them with growing irritation. 

But despite his objection, Lan Xichen ducked his head down to place a gentle kiss on Fang Zejun’s lips. Zejun felt as if all the strength drained from his body as pleasure and happiness rang down deep into his bones. He weakly clung to Xichen’s hands on his face as their lips parted. Before he had recovered from this, he felt a firm hand grasp the hair at the back of his neck and turn him to face the other way. 

Jiang Cheng observed Zejun’s face doubtfully. To Zejun’s shock, he next did something completely out of character and leaned in to whisper lascivious words in Zejun’s ear. “However good he makes you feel, I’ll make it even better. My name will be the one you cry until your voice gives out.”

Zejun gasped and before he could stop himself, let out a shameful cry just hearing these words. Almost instantly, his mouth was claimed by Jiang Cheng’s. Just like the first time he kissed him, Jiang Cheng was extremely aggressive. He held Zejun’s head firmly while delving inside his mouth with his tongue, swallowing up the pathetic moans that rose from him. 

When he released him, Zejun was a trembling mess. Lan Xichen drew close and gathered him into his arms, bringing him over to his bed without a word. Jiang Cheng started undressing by the bed as Xichen placed affectionate kisses on Zejun’s cheek and started running his hand down his body to undo his clothes. 

“Wanyin, that lamp oil,” Xichen said as he briefly parted from Zejun. 

“Nh,” Jiang Cheng grunted, reaching for a lamp and setting it nearby the bed as he got in beside the other two. 

While Xichen undressed himself, Jiang Cheng began giving Zejun’s lower half some attention. To Zejun’s further shock, as he hadn’t even realized Jiang Cheng was interested in doing this with him, after dipping them in the lamp oil, Jiang Cheng pressed his fingers against Zejun’s entrance. Zejun grasped Jiang Cheng’s shoulders for support as his fingers quickly drained him of all sentient thought, and one worked its way inside him. 

Before he could get used to this sensation, the beautiful face of Lan Xichen appeared before his eyes and demanded sweet and teasing kisses. Zejun moaned against him, letting one hand leave Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and weave through Lan Xichen’s luxurious hair. He squeezed it tightly as Xichen repeatedly gave teasing licks to the roof of Zejun’s mouth. 

While still so close that Zejun could feel his low, sweet voice against his lips, Xichen whispered, “I do truly love your voice, Zejun. Every time I feel it in my chest…or against my lips…I get shivers up my spine.”

Zejun cried out desperately, his hips bucking up against Jiang Cheng’s fingers inside him, as he struggled not to cum so soon. 

Jiang Cheng observed this interaction with disdain. “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do to him, Zewu Jun. He won’t be much good to you if he cums now.”

Zejun took in a shocked breath as he looked over to an extremely erotic sight. At some point, Xichen had taken the lamp oil from Jiang Cheng. As Xichen had been kissing him, he had one hand reached around his back and was blushing and now and then making soft noises of pleasure. His cock twitched just with what he was doing to himself. 

Xichen smiled up at Jiang Cheng somewhat mischievously. But then he turned back to Zejun and approached to demand more kisses. “He’ll stay hard for me,” he whispered as he slipped his tongue into Zejun’s mouth, evoking a moan from him.

“Keh,” Jiang Cheng scoffed. “You’re confident, I’ll give you that.”

Zejun had trouble breathing properly as he kept gasping in desperation at the thought of what both these great gentlemen were doing. He deeply kissed Zewu Jun as his desire for both of them continued to grow. He barely noticed as Jiang Cheng increased the fingers inside him one by one until he was ready. 

“Ngh,” Jiang Cheng murmured, but Zejun thought he was blushing a little. “I think he’s ready.”

Xichen placed a last, lingering kiss on Zejun’s lips. “…me too,” he murmured breathlessly.

As Jiang Cheng drew his fingers from Zejun, Xichen clasped him in his arms and turned over on the bed, so that now Zejun was on top of him. “Zejun…” he whispered, softly stroking Zejun’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. His breath was ragged as he softly bit at Zejun’s upper lip. “Please…inside…”

Zejun’s higher brain functions almost entirely shut down at this soft but extremely erotic request. Though still in disbelief that he could be desired by someone like Zewu Jun, he swallowed and pressed his tip to the moist entrance. 

Both he and Xichen gasped as the tip pushed inside. He was further driven to distress as Xichen arched his head back with a breathy moan, tensing as he struggled through the pleasure running through his elegant body. Zejun was filled with a desire to force more aching pleasure through this beautiful man’s body. But before he could think to do anything, his attention was divided by a hot pressure invading his own body. 

“Ngh!” he cried, desperately reaching behind him to cling to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “Jiang…Cheng…!” he cried, his voice breaking as pleasure and mild panic ran through him. Already, with them barely moving, this was more pleasure than he had ever imagined. He was instantly frightened that it would break him.

Jiang Cheng didn’t make things any easier by making bold and possessive sweeps of Zejun’s body with his strong, calloused hands. Zejun let out a whimper as one hand felt up his chest before grasping his neck. 

Into his ear, Jiang Cheng whispered, “Which is better? Your ass, or your cock?”

Zejun cried out, his whole body twitching against his will. He was amazed he hadn’t cum already, this was far already too much stimulation. Even if he knew, he had no presence of mind to answer such a question.

Lan Xichen didn’t seem to like the way Jiang Cheng was holding him. Though panting softly himself, he reached up both hands and clasped Zejun’s face reassuringly. “Is it too much?” he asked gently. “Come here…”

Though he didn’t seem happy about it, Jiang Cheng reluctantly released Zejun and let him collapse against Lan Xichen’s body. Xichen enclosed him in his arms and breathed in the scent of his hair. 

“Zejun…” he murmured against his hair. 

But at that moment, Jiang Cheng curved his hands around Zejun’s ass and hips, and finally thrust deeply inside him. Both Zejun and Lan Xichen, who felt the impact of Jiang Cheng’s hips almost as hard as Zejun, let out loud cries. He heard Jiang Cheng let out a soft chuckle. 

“It’s a shame we haven’t done this before,” Jiang Cheng commented, observing the trembling and gasping state of the other two. “I can almost feel you both,” he said, rolling his hips against Zejun and by extension causing Zejun’s cock to lasciviously stroke Xichen’s insides too. They both cried out and clung to each other, Xichen’s eyes fluttering as he watched Jiang Cheng with trepidation. Jiang Cheng met his gaze with feral hunger. “This isn’t bad at all.”

Zejun’s mind started going blank from the overwhelming pleasure of not only being inside Lan Xichen, but to have his beloved clan leader’s cock driving inside him over and over. He could barely breathe. The pleasure was so intense he felt his vision darkening repeatedly. He couldn’t concentrate on any one sensation or he would lose control, and he didn’t want it to end.

But then Jiang Cheng grasped both his arms to arch his back and pound against both of them, reducing not only the desperate Zejun but also the normally controlled Lan Xichen to quivering helplessly beneath him. 

“Zejun…Wan…yin…” Xichen whispered between his moans.

Jiang Cheng leaned in close to Zejun’s neck and despite the brutal thrusting of his hips, places soft kisses there. He even nuzzled his cheek and kissed him there too. “Mine is better, right?” he asked him, almost sweetly.

“Ah! Jiang Cheng…!” Zejun cried out, and could not even think to come up with an answer before turning his face to Jiang Cheng and kissing him. 

Xichen seemed to observe this patiently for only a few moments. Then he pulled down at Zejun’s shoulder. “Zejun…me too…”

Though fearful that even touching Xichen’s lips with his own would break the final straw holding back the powerful orgasm that had been building inside him, Zejun couldn’t possibly refuse this sweet request. He turned down to Xichen and leaned over him, brushing a few stray hairs out of his face. 

“Xichen…” he whispered boldly, grasping Xichen’s face in both hands and kissing him sweetly. 

Xichen placed both his hands over Zejun’s and whispered as their lips parted, “You can call me ‘A-Huan’…can I call you ‘A-Lin’?”

In spite of himself, that was all Zejun could take. He tensed as mind-melting pleasure ran up and down his whole body. He couldn’t hold back from claiming Xichen’s mouth and moaning desperately against him as he let go deep inside him. 

He felt a soft cry against his lips from Xichen. The older man’s fingers dug into Zejun’s shoulders, leaving bruises although he was too delirious with pleasure to notice. “Ah! Ah…no…almost…” Xichen whispered, the soft, suggestive phrase from the controlled gentleman sending shivers of desire throughout the other two who heard it. 

Left bereft with Zejun trembling on top of him but unable to move, Xichen looked up toward Jiang Cheng with desperation. “Wanyin…I didn’t…yet…please…?”

Jiang Cheng let out a shuddering sigh, and Zejun felt his cock twitch inside him. He leaned down over Zejun to murmur in his ear, “We’re going to make Lan Xichen cum, all right?”

Zejun cried out, even though he was now overly sensitive and exhausted from cumming. He weakly nodded. “Ah…wait!” he cried out, as Jiang Cheng again began moving inside him. “I feel strange…Jiang Cheng…cumming…again…”

“No,” Xichen said rather cutely, and grasped Zejun’s face to kiss him insistently. “Not yet…a little more…”

“Ah! Ah…A-Huan…” he gasped.

Xichen shuddered blissfully. “A-Lin…A-Lin!” he cried softly. And as Zejun trembled helplessly against him, while still tightly holding onto him, he reached up another hand to stroke Jiang Cheng’s face. “Wanyin…ah!”

With that, Jiang Cheng bit back a cry and pounded Zejun’s insides one last time. It was an indescribable sensation as Xichen’s cock twitched against his stomach and his entrance tightened around him until it felt so good it was painful. While at the same time, Jiang Cheng’s cock seemed to grow harder than ever inside him and jerked again and again while filling his insides with warmth. 

Zejun’s breath stopped completely for a moment. His vision went dark and he utterly forgot who he was. Moments later, he gasped in a breath as if nothing had happened. He was again overwhelmed as Xichen’s hands gently took his face to bring it closer and place affectionate kisses on it. 

“You went away for a moment,” Xichen observed as he kissed him. “Was it that good?”

Though it seemed more playful than actually jealous, Jiang Cheng also brushed some hair from Zejun’s neck and said softly, “But one was better than the other, right?”

Zejun’s loyalty was such that he did actually try to think of an answer to the question, though up until a few moments ago it seemed impossible. But the only answer that came to him was that he felt so good he wondered if he were still sane. 

“…is this heaven?” he muttered sleepily. “I…don’t want to be reincarnated…if it is…”

He heard Xichen chuckle and almost physically felt Jiang Cheng roll his eyes, but then he lost his battle against sleep and for the first time in his life, felt surrounded by love.


End file.
